


Unfinished Business

by Maygra



Series: Unfinished Business [1]
Category: The Fast and the Furious
Genre: M/M, Unfinished Business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-26
Updated: 2004-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 84,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alternate ending,  740k, (84,000 words)<br/>NC17  (everyone's got their version of what happened at the end of the movie; this is mine.) Cover Art by X.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapters 1-5

# Unfinished Business

  
**By Maygra**

alternate ending, 740k, (84,000 words) NC17

_ Years will pass and you'll remember  
All that died within your grasp  
And I'll be gone, you'll sleep uneasy  
Upon a bed built of regret  
You won't forget the loss of passion  
As the past sleeps in your mind  
Years will pass and you'll be searching  
For things you'll never find. Regret ~ Bella Morte_

### Part One:

The adrenaline wore off long before they were done with him.

He hardly had to say anything to Tanner at all. It was like the whole sorry day was written on his face.

"You let him walk," Bilkins snapped out and not for the first time.

"Did he force you to give him the keys?" Tanner had asked, like he still believed, still thought there was something to salvage from this.

It was an out, one Brian could take if he wanted. He had bruises enough to make it stick. It didn't matter that they'd come from the wild leap from the semi to the Supra, and from the slamming around he'd taken chasing after two well-armed, nothing-to-lose Vietnamese on hyped up Kawasakis.

Well, they'd had something to lose. Tanner had demanded his badge even before they'd made it back to the precinct. He'd asked for his gun too, which was a whole other thing. Not that they really needed it for anything other than safety at this point. They didn't need a lab -- Brian hadn't intended to lie about shooting Tran. Or about giving Dom his keys. He hadn't planned on lying about any of it.

He'd been wrong. Wrong about Dom and his team because he didn't want to believe it. Dom was a good guy. He cared about his people. Force of gravity.

Bilkins' sharp staccato sarcasm had turned into a buzz of sound he couldn't hear any longer. Tanner was a muffled buzz of easier rhythms. All of it sounded like the throb of an engine that was badly in need of a tune-up.

Until there was silence, and Brian found himself looking up, seeing both men staring at him from opposite sides of the interrogation table, obviously waiting for him to say something.

"So, am I under arrest?" he asked because he honestly couldn't think of anything else. His head throbbed, his ribs ached, his mouth tasted like road grit and ash and all he wanted to know was if there was going to be somewhere he could lie down for awhile. A cell would be as good as anyplace.

Bilkins swore like a street fighter and slammed out of the room, the glass in the one-way mirror shaking.

Tanner just looked tired and sad. "Go home, Brian. Don't leave town. Don't make this worse."

It couldn't get worse.

The Mustang had been sitting so long in the garage that it took a couple of tries to get the engine to turn over. It needed a tune -up too and Brian idly wondered if he could rebuild it into something with some real power instead of just flash.

But that would take cash and since it looked like he would soon be out of a job, if he wasn't already, he figured he'd be lucky to have money enough to put gas in it.

They'd asked for his badge. No surprise there. He wasn't sure how many laws he'd broken, or if they thought he was a dirty cop or just a stupid one.

He still had Vince's blood on him. It was under his nails, soaked into his shirt. Tran's blood stained his palms, maybe Jesse's too. Maybe even a little of Dom's. Whatever blood of his own was there had been washed over and obscured by the rest.

He almost got lost going home. It had been weeks since he'd actually been to his house, instead of either the job house or the room that Brian Spilner used in the back of Harry's shop. He doubted if there was even food there and he made a stop to get some, beer too, since whatever had been left in his refrigerator wouldn't be enough. He stared at the Coronas for a long time before picking up a twelve-pack of Miller.

It felt unreal to climb the steps. He barely recognized this place as home any longer, the peeling paint, the once cheerful, now fading yellow paint, that showed signs of neglect and abandonment, despite the none too cheap rent. It wasn't home, not really. Home had very little to do with where you lived. He knew that. He did. He'd come to realize it, know it, feel it, over the past month or so. Home was never about the place, it was about the people.

"I gave him the keys."

"He's a wanted felon," Tanner said, not wanting to believe.

"Suspected. Alleged."

"Did he or did he not participate in those truck jackings? Christ, Brian, you were there!"

Brian hadn't said anything. Not to Tanner, not to Bilkins. Not with an attorney or not. That they'd let him go said something Brian didn't want to think about. They didn't need him -- not for this. The truck driver wasn't likely to forget Vince's face or Dom's. The wreckage of two Civics would offer up prints enough to make some forensic officer's job more like play. Nothing Brian could say would change any of it.

He wouldn't leave town. There was no point. There was no place to go.

He had to fumble with the keys to get his door open, unsure, any longer, which one fit. Or maybe he was just too tired. The beer in his arms was heavy. Bread and peanut butter sounded like a bad idea on his already sour stomach. Beer was probably a bad idea too, but it would numb him more. Didn't he have some tequila stashed somewhere?

No lights. If he'd left one on it had long since burned out. No doubt his mail was falling out of the box on the street. He'd forgotten to check.

He fumbled again and tried the switch inside the door but the little hall light didn't come on and he made his way toward the kitchen. Some light filtered in from the curtained front windows but not much. Enough to keep him from walking into anything, enough contrast to see the darker shadow that was the kitchen door.

That light worked and Brian winced at the brightness. The bags tumbled onto the counter, the bread no doubt being crushed under the peanut butter. He covered his eyes and waited for them to adjust. His hand smelled: bitter, acrid, sweat and blood and oil and gas. Cordite.

Elbowing the sink on, he heard the pipes rumble and waited until a burst of water spattered the dusty sink before thrusting his hands beneath the flow and bringing the tepid, sour smelling stuff up to his face. His ribs twinged, his shoulders, but the water ran cleaner and colder the third time he did it, making the aches easier to ignore.

A cupped handful of water got the stale, bitter taste out of his mouth, but it also made him nauseous. He leaned over the sink, letting the water spatter at him from the stainless steel before finally shutting it off.

Jesse was dead. He didn't know about Vince. Hadn't even tried to call Mia.

Dom was free. He hoped so. He thought so. If they'd picked him up, Tanner would have told him. He thought Tanner would have told him. Hopefully Dom had managed to ditch the car, pick up a new ride. Hector would help him, Edwin. Hell, Harry would if he could get away with it. He hoped Dom had ditched the car but maybe not. He hadn't looked too good.

He'd looked like shit. But he had driven away. If Dominic could drive, he'd be okay.

And if Dom were okay, Brian would be too. It had to be that way, right? Because otherwise none of it was worth anything. That was the choice he'd made.

He hadn't even been clear on why until he'd handed the keys over.

Until Dom had rolled the Charger over.

Brian's whole life had flashed before his eyes in those few seconds. Funny, he'd always thought that was supposed to happen when you were dying. Not when someone else might be, but that had been it -- he'd seen it all, every choice he'd made, every step up to that point.

Maybe he'd been dying a little after all. It felt like it, felt like he couldn't breathe until he actually realized Dom still was.

He shoved the beer in the refrigerator, staring at what was left of the six pack of Coronas that were already there. Beer, butter, mustard, ketchup. A nearly empty jar of pickles. Something in a take -out container that he'd forgotten about and didn't want to think about now.

He pulled out one of the Miller long necks and opened it.

It was cold, and nearly tasteless, no bite or fire, no hint of lime. He almost gagged on it, but kept going until half of it was gone. He left the rest on the counter and started toward his bedroom, peeling off the sweat and blood -stiffened t-shirt as he walked through the living room to the small hall on the other side.

He saw the shadow move before he actually registered the sound, the click. Instinct and surprise should have made him move faster, but he was almost on the shadow before he noticed it, before it moved. It was no tackle, more like tripping, legs tangling with his, a heavier body and an amazingly solid fist punching into his lower back even while he twisted around to meet his attacker head-on. That faint filtered light from the windows and the kitchen shone off skin and a white t-shirt. A mostly white t-shirt. So glaring now even in the half-light and how had he missed it? How had he missed Dom sitting in his living room?

Last place he expected him to be. He should be in Mexico. Anywhere. Nothing Brian had said or wouldn't say had kept the APB from going out on the wire.

Even as his cheek was rubbed raw in the carpet, he couldn't be surprised. Surprised Dom was here, yeah. Surprised that he still had a grudge to settle -- no, not at all.

He twisted around, tried to throw Dom off. Got to his back and went still. Light glinted off metal, inches from his face. The gun didn't waver except when Dom shifted, moved slightly to straddle Brian's body, heavy thighs pinning his legs, settling on him at just that point where trying to leverage Dominic off him would take a lot more time and effort than the gun was likely to give him.

"Are you nuts?" Brian hissed out. His hands were still free, because Dom wasn't using his free hand to hold him. He could move it though, stiffly, which was actually a vast improvement over the last time Brian had seen him.

"That a surprise, Brian? That I'm a little nuts?" Dom said, voice even, low, tight. "They took Mia in."

Oh, shit. Well, that explained a lot. Not just for revenge then. This was something else. "They've got nothing on her, Dom. Nothing. They just want to ask her questions. You had to know they would."

"What kind of questions? Like where I am? She won't tell them. She doesn't know."

But Dom knew she'd been taken in. It made sense if Brian thought about it, because Dom wouldn't leave her. His life had come crashing down and he'd still come back to Jesse. He'd have killed anyone who got in his way. He might have killed Brian had not Jesse shown up right then. But now Jesse was dead too.

"They've got nothing on her, Dom. I didn't call for back up. I didn't tell them anything."

"Oh, no? Then how come you're still walking around? Cop." The last was a growl and the tip of the gun pressed under his chin.

"Because they've got nothing. They won't until they talk to the truck driver. Until they talk to Vince." If they could.

"Vince."

"As far as I know, he's still alive. You shouldn't be here, Dom. Mia will be okay. You…you have got to get out of here." Which might be more difficult than Dom realized. They'd let Brian go, yeah, but if there wasn't someone watching his house, Brian would be surprised and disappointed. Tanner was better than that. Bilkins was better than that -- he was an asshole, but he wasn't an idiot.

Dom's weight on his middle shifted back a bit, a different kind of pressure building and Brian had to fight not to squirm. The gun drew back an inch or so.

"When I'm sure Mia's all right."

"They'll watch her. They're probably watching me," Brian said. "Jesus, Toretto! You had your chance. Why the fuck didn't you take it?"

The gun drew back further and Dom sat back on his thighs, the pressure making Brian wince. "Unfinished business," he said and then seemed to gather himself to lean forward, his stiff left arm trembling as he braced himself and got up. He weaved a little but the gun was at his side and Brian rolled quickly, feeling his own body twinge as he scrambled to his feet. By the time he was on them, Dom was holding the gun out, butt first. "It's out of ammo," he said. "You got anything to eat?"

Numbly, Brian took the gun and checked it. Feeling stupid…feeling another push of adrenaline. "Peanut butter. I'll order in," he said, wondering if he could actually find anyplace to deliver at this time of night. Dom was settling back in the chair, leaning his head back. Still moving cautiously, Brian reached for the lamp beside the chair, flicking it on and Dom flinched.

Jesus.

How Dominic had managed to put him on the floor had to have been sheer luck. He looked worse than he had after getting out of the Charger even though he obviously had done some cleaning up. He didn't move his arm very easily which didn't mean it wasn't broken, only that Dom had a high tolerance for pain. The gash on his scalp had been cleaned, the scab thick and ugly looking, but his face was bruised, his arms, probably elsewhere too. The blood on his shirt had dried to an ugly, crusty brown. He didn't move or even look at Brian when Brian moved away, going back into the kitchen and pulling out a cold beer, fingers hovering until he grabbed one of the four Coronas left. Somewhere he had pain killers too and there was ice. Ice went into a Ziploc bag and then into a towel, the cabinets revealed no great gourmet treats but there was canned chili and soup and tuna. The last almost made Brian smile, but he pulled down the chili instead and opened it, rinsing out a bowl before dumping it in and setting the microwave.

"Here," he said, coming back in to offer Dom the beer and the icepack. Dom eyed him with little interest but his good hand came out to snag the beer. Brian left the ice pack on the arm of the chair.

He checked his bathroom and found dirty, bloody towels on the sink and the painkillers he'd been sure he had were there, the bottle opened, and an empty Corona in the trash. It took a few moments for that to sink in. Dom had been here awhile. But he hadn't eaten.

He couldn't get the can open.

He snagged two more pills and went back to the kitchen just as the microwave pinged. Plate, bowl, bread, spoon.

Dom looked like he had fallen asleep or passed out, except he was still holding onto the beer. He hadn't touched the ice pack though.

"Dom. Dominic," Brian said and Dom came back with a jerk and a hiss, looking both disoriented and…and…

Scared. Not an emotion Brian had ever really expected to see on Dominic Toretto's face. "Dom, eat this. Take these," he said, crouching, offering up the pills first and waited while Dom set the beer aside to take the pills, then wash them down with the beer. The chili went down on the arm of the chair, Brian watching for a minute to make sure he could handle the spoon.

He watched him for a long minute, Dom eating automatically, like he was all too aware that he needed fuel, that will power alone would not get him through this. He was methodical and thorough, in no hurry, and Brian finally left him to seek sustenance of his own.

The first bite made him want to hurl, heavy and greasy, and he tore into a piece of bread instead. He went hunting for other supplies.

It never occurred to him to turn Dom in, although the possibility of the action did. A phone call and there would be cops everywhere. Dom wasn't armed, he was hurt, they'd probably be able to take him alive. He'd get medical help, he'd get time. Brian would get his job back. His respect back.

Like that would make it all better. What the hell had he been thinking?

He had nothing that would fit Dom really. Maybe a shirt, but pants, no way. And the shirt would be stretch, literally.

Digging around under the bathroom vanity produced an old, battered, off the shelf first aid kit with little of use except a sling, but that was something. And he had a washer and dryer.

The food was gone and the beer nearly so when he returned. Brian wasn't entirely sure what to do but he hovered again, dropping his butt on the coffee table.

"What's that?"

"A sling," Brian said, fingering the muslin. "Your arm--"

"Dislocated. It's better." The glare that accompanied the comment dissuaded Brian from arguing. He set the sling aside.

"You could use a shower." I could use a shower... "I can wash your clothes."

"Afraid of a little blood, Brian?" White teeth gleamed at him and Brian shook his head and got up.

"Whatever," he snapped. "I need a shower. Do whatever the hell you want, Dom."

"What are you going to do?"

"About what? You?" Dom's gaze didn't waver, didn't flinch.

"You think they'll look for me here?"

No, no, they probably wouldn't. Not if they hadn't seen him come here. "How did you find me?"

"Phone book."

Brian made a rude noise, but he was trying to figure it out. "And how many B. O'Conners are there in LA?"

"A lot," Dom said. "I called until I got your answering machine." He leaned forward and then pulled himself up. "A shower would be good," he said and Brian just closed his eyes before gesturing toward the bedroom.

"You know where it is."

Dom tried to move easily. It wouldn't have been so noticeable if he hadn't been trying so hard. Brian followed, only to stop and dig towels out of the closet. "I don't have anything to fit you. I'll wash those," he said and Dom stared at him long and hard before nodding.

In the end, he needed help, although he sure as hell didn't ask for it and didn't look too thrilled at accepting it. He managed his boots and his pants, but the shirt -- the flimsy, filthy cotton -- was too much for him. With Dom sitting on the toilet with a towel over his lap, Brian peeled the shirt off and while he wouldn't bet any money on it, he was pretty sure Dominic was a few shades paler when he was naked.

Brian set the water. "Can you manage?"

"Guess we'll find out," Dom said, standing up again, setting the towels down. Brian only glanced, not surprised at the powerful array of muscles in Dom's torso and legs. Muscle cars, muscle man. Sleek, naturally olive tanned skin, but it was shadowed by bruises, including one that spanned the entire left side of his back from shoulder to hip. No way to know if it was from the Charger crashing or from the disaster that was the truck hijacking.

Brian gathered up his clothes as Dom stepped under the water.

He tossed his own clothes into the washing machine as well, although he idly thought he should just toss them entirely. But if he couldn't have a shower, he could at least have clean clothes. He snagged one of the pain killers from the bathroom, pausing only to check on Dom. He was half obscured behind the frosted plastic of the shower door, his good arm bracing him against the wall as the water pounded over him. Brian saw his head turn, knew Dom had seen him, but he couldn't see Dom's eyes or the expression on his face.

The living room felt smaller without Dom in it. Another beer but Brian barely touched it. He wouldn't turn Dom in, but now they had a whole other set of problems. He should check on Mia, because if he'd thought about it when he handed the keys over, he'd have known Dom wouldn't leave his little sister to the wolves. He'd leave none of them until he knew they were okay.

And Brian knew it. He'd just forgotten. Forgotten why he'd been drawn to Dominic Toretto almost on their first meeting. Up until then he'd been a face and a rap sheet. A likely suspect. All in all he was still a street punk. A criminal, no matter his charisma.

Dom had something else. Mia called it gravity and maybe that was part of it, but there was more to it and Brian was caught in that as surely as the rest of them had been. Loyalty, trust.

Undercover was all about gaining trust and betraying it. How many times had Tanner told him that while he was prepping himself for this? Brian had never made the connection really, not until it happened. Not until Dominic Toretto trusted him with everything he was, everything he had, everyone he had.

He reached for his phone.

By the time the water shut off, Brian had news. Not great but some. He wandered back, watching as Dom finished drying himself off, and managed to hook a towel around his hips. "You should get some rest," Brian said, glancing back at the bed. It was made but Brian honestly couldn't remember how long since he'd changed the sheets and he wasn't going to do it now. "Your clothes will be ready in about an hour. They let Mia go home."

Dom's head lifted at that, his eyes shifting to the phone by Brian's bed.

"They probably have it tapped."

"Not unless they did it before I got here." He made for the phone and Brian had to move quickly to get in front of him without actually thinking of how stupid a move that might be. Dom was moving more easily but his left arm still looked like he didn't really own it -- was only borrowing it for awhile. The expression on his face was enough to make Brian draw a sharp breath before squaring his shoulders.

You break her heart and I'll break your neck.

Likewise, Dom. And you getting caught would definitely break her heart.. "They don't need to get in here to do it. You're watch too many cop shows, Dom. I'll call her."

"You think she's going to talk to you?"

The sneer was no less than Brian deserved.

"I think her phone is probably tapped too. Dom, whatever it is you want, you can't do it if they catch you," Brian said tightly. "You think this was a local operation? This was the Feds, Toretto. This was big. You were a big deal. You still are."

"You said you didn't say anything."

"I didn't. God damn it, Dom! They'll get you for smashing the damn crossing rail if that's all they can nail on you."

Dom jerked back at that, eyes narrowing as if he could see through Brian if he stared hard enough. "Don't take God's name in vain," he said mildly and pushed past Brian, a brush of shoulder that really had no force behind it but Brian lurched sideways anyway. Dom didn't go for the phone though, only pulled the bedspread back and eased himself down. Brian jerked his gaze back and shook his head. He could use coffee or something but he wasn't likely to go out again. Without looking back at Dominic taking over his bed, he left him, seeking the relative seclusion of the living room.

He didn't have a decent sofa. Just a couple of chairs and a love seat that had seen better days, a coffee table that looked as bruised and battered as Brian felt. He'd get Dom's clothes done, grab a shower when there was hot water again, and then see if he couldn't figure out some way to get Dom out of his house without him being seen.

The love seat sagged. Not the most comfortable spot to lie down on and the sagging cushions did nothing to support his aching back. The sudden rush of blood to his head made him feel light-headed and dizzy. He'd be sick if he had the energy. As it was he'd just finished reminding himself that getting up was going to hurt more than lying down before he slipped away from conscious thought or caring about anything.

 

###  Part Two:

It had happened pretty much the way he'd told Brian. He'd found an alley, a place to tuck in while the cops rolled by, waited until things were quiet again before he'd actually allowed himself to be sick or to even acknowledge the kind of pain he was in. Even then the physical pain had seemed minor, more of an annoyance than the other pain that no drugs and probably no amount of booze would ease.

He tried for the house, but the cops were crawling everywhere and even as he watched from one high street over, he'd seen Mia walked to a black and white. Watched with a hollow, empty feeling as the ambulance was loaded with a white-sheeted body. They had his shotgun and they ransacked the house. The urge to roar down the hillside and smash into the cluster of patrol vehicles and pull Mia out of it all had been strong.

But they hadn't cuffed her. They'd just put her in the back seat and some dark haired, clean-cut Latino cop had driven her away. They'd left three officers on the scene.

It wasn't like he had no other resources and he found them, hunted them down to get his shoulder knocked back into place, pick up some cash, put the word out for Leon and Letty, and figure out what the hell to do.

He hadn't lied to Brian. He wasn't running. Dominic Toretto didn't run out on his family. And they were still his. All of them.

It had taken him hours to actually get his thoughts together enough to make any kind of plan. He couldn't get to Mia or Vince. He didn't know where Letty and Leon had gone to ground and Jesse was dead.

That left Brian. Brian who Dom couldn't really be sure was actually still a friend. Not family though. Family didn't betray family and Brian had done that if nothing else. But he'd given Dom his freedom and that left him in the not-quite-enemy camp.

There were a lot of O'Conners in the phone book, but not that many "B. O'Conners" and they'd come first. Dom heard the familiar voice on the tenth try. Not so far away even and he'd managed to find a decent hiding place for the car a block or so over. Then he'd waited. Head throbbing, body telling him enough was enough, his arm stiffening up from swelling and abuse until he had to force himself to flex his fingers just to keep the blood flowing. He'd still waited and watched for more than an hour, long after the sun went down, when the lights in surrounding houses came up and Brian's house remained dark.

Getting in had been easier than breaking into the Tran's garage, but Dom broke nothing, just worked the rotting back door until it slid open with a squeak. It was a small house, more cottage than anything, nothing like the sprawl and added on ramble of his own home. Dust had settled everywhere. Everywhere but the inside of the refrigerator which offered him up little except a six pack of Coronas, some milk that had turned solid, and an interesting mix of condiments.

He hadn't turned on any lights, letting his eyes adjust to the ambient light filtering in from the street. Not much to say Brian lived here -- or that anyone lived here at all. An eclectic mix of music rested in stacks beside a stereo. A few paperbacks and car magazines. Dom's eyes narrowed at the police manuals stacked in an untidy heap on the bottom shelf of the stereo cabinet.

He'd trailed through the house, touching nothing but examining everything. Only in the bathroom did he turn on the lights and then only after the door was shut.

He barely recognized himself in the mirror and so he stopped looking, but found a towel and checked out the medicine cabinet. He let a trickle of water run, ears alert to any sound beyond the door as he tried to wash off some of the blood and let the cold, wet cloth press to his face for long minutes as if he could reshape his features into someone he recognized. The painkillers had gone down with a cupped handful of water.

Then he'd waited. It had taken longer than he wanted, not as long as he probably should have expected. The painkillers had helped because he could pass the minutes waiting and marking the ebbing of aches and the reduced burning in his muscles and bruises.

Coming here had been a less than clear plan. At first, anger and the deep wrenching sense of betrayal had sent him hunting down Brian. Brian letting him go had been unexpected, something Dom might have even been grateful for if he hadn't seen his baby sister being hauled in by LA's finest assholes. Saving Vince, another point scored. Jesse's death, the lies, somehow the balance sheet hadn't seemed to equal out. Brian had messed with his family. Brian had saved his family, saved him, but even so, retribution was a given. Maybe not to kill him, but definitely to let him know just how very bad an idea it was.

But with the pain easing and the hours passing, things had shifted a bit: his perspective or just his addition. Not only had Brian managed to get Vince off the truck when Dom couldn't, he'd made sure he had a chance by calling in the air lift.

None of it made sense. Not taken against what he knew. Had Brian done it for Mia? Had he really and truly fallen for her so much or so hard that he'd risk so much? She was worth the risk -- Dom had no doubt of it -- but he'd come back for Dom.

To take him in, maybe. To stop him from running? Maybe.

He'd come alone. He left alone.

Off-duty. That's what he'd said to the dispatcher at Life-flight. Off-duty. No cops, not until much, much later. Not until Dom had been clear and Brian had walked away.

It was hours later when Dom started to wonder if Brian was coming back, or if his actions -- his lack of action in doing his job -- might not have landed him in whole lot more trouble than he realized it would. No cop himself, Dom could still see the list of charges start to form. Aiding and abetting, manslaughter at least for taking out Johnny Tran, if he had, or did cops get special dispensation when they offed trash like that? Obstruction of justice.

And then he remembered Mia, and Vince, and Jesse and the wreck his life was at the moment. By the time he'd heard Brian at the door he'd worked himself up into a frustrated temper again.

It was only slightly mitigated when he finally saw him. The kid looked like hell. He hadn't shaved and that golden fuzz looked darker until he realized it was bruise on Brian's face; that he moved nearly as stiffly and ungracefully as Dom did.

He was invisible as Brian moved past him in the darkened room. Wherever Brian's thoughts were, they obviously weren't in the here and now. Time to make his presence known.

He'd startled Brian, yes, but Brian wasn't afraid. Not of Dom, not of much, apparently. And Dom's anger, even though he kept encouraging it to ignite, just never quite caught. Yeah, he was pissed off, but there was no longer a target for it. Not the Trans, not the system, not for Brian.

That left only himself. Brian was an easier target but Dom couldn't sustain it, couldn't hold onto it. He wanted to beat the shit out of something, someone, but even as his fists had clenched he'd seen something in Brian's face that made him back off.

Brian had risked a lot to give him his shot at freedom; Dom couldn't even begin to tally up what it might cost and Dom had tossed it back at Brian like it was worthless. He'd taken the keys from Brian with barely any hesitation, knowing even then that he was leaving Brian to face the music for his mistakes, his failures. But he'd done it, he'd taken that opening.

Only watching Mia get hassled, seeing Jesse's body carted away...…Dominic Toretto didn't like to owe anyone anything. Not his sister, not his team, and not some smart-mouthed, too convincing undercover cop.

And still Brian didn't back off and didn't turn him in, like he owed Dom something, still.

The shower probably helped Dom more than anything, easing pains, clearing his head. He'd taken Brian's bed, unable to do much more than watch him disappear into the darkness again, to listen to the shush and whir of the washing machine. He must have dozed because the buzzer that sounded when the washing machine stopped startled him, made him jerk upright in ways that weren't wise. He waited, expected to hear something, like Brian moving, but heard nothing. After a few moments he got up himself and checked, moving the wet clothes to the stacked dryer and set the timer. The noise seemed over-loud, the thump, thump of the tumbling clothes not quite rhythmic.

He had to resecure the towel and wonder briefly if Brian didn't have something he could wear, sweat pants or loose shorts and he made a half-hearted look through the dresser. Brian was as tall as him but he was definitely on the skinny side, "no hips, nice ass," Letty had said, needling Vince when it became obvious that Mia was interested in a blue-eyed, white boy.

Brian had managed to fold himself up and onto the small love seat. It didn't look comfortable at all -- and Dom had tried it when he'd first sat down. Too soft, too shallow, like something his mother might have put in the front parlor for ladies to sit on primly, on the edge, with tea cups in hand.

It looked uncomfortable as hell, but Brian seemed not to notice, his breathing shallow and even. Kid couldn't even snore properly. Just snuffled a little and shifted only to settle again.

Dom should have felt like an idiot, staring at Brian sleeping, but he was as confused as ever, not knowing what Brian wanted, what was his game? He was both angered and confused by how very easily and quickly Brian had managed to get into Dom's space. Yeah, rescuing him from the cops after their first race had probably been a set up, going after Mia, more of the same, but even now Dom couldn't think that it was entirely calculated. Brian had seemed well and truly scared in the desert. Scared that Vince might die, or maybe that Dom would let Vince die while he beat the shit out of Brian but still, no cops…not there, not waiting at the house until after Jesse was dead, after the Trans had been put down, and he didn't think Brian had called them. Most likely his neighbors. Drive-bys weren't exactly common in Echo Park.

He felt like an idiot and he finally got up and moved, staring at the phone, fingers itching to dial and talk to Mia, make sure she was okay.

He already knew the answer to that, though. He didn't need to hear her say it. She'd begged him not to do this job, this time. Letty and Leon, both of them had thought it was a bad idea. Without Jesse…

Even with Jesse, it probably still would have gone wrong. Mia had managed to tell him that much on the drive back from the highway. That Brian had gone after them because he knew the truckers were arming up. That as far as she knew, he really hadn't called in for any kind of back-up, only the trace, only the helicopter.

Only flinging himself off the side of a moving car onto a moving truck with no safety line for a guy who would just as soon kick his head in as give him the time of day.

Maybe in some ways, Dom was not nearly as bad a judge of character as he'd been telling himself he was for trusting Brian in the first place.

The thump of the dryer had become softer, less the thwack of wet clothes against the drum and he checked it. His pants were damp but warm, Brian's jeans still wet. He pulled his pants out and reset the timer.

There wasn't much to do and while he felt tired, he wasn't; ready to sleep, his thoughts too tangled to settle. He stalked through the house, quietly, checking the front windows, seeing the car across the street, parked at the corner. He thought he saw movement in it. Could be a couple of kids making out or maybe it was more cops watching Brian, waiting for him to do something.

Shit. He really hadn't thought this through.

He gave his arm a test and hissed when the shoulder pulled tightly. It might be back in the socket but he wasn't going to be lifting anything heavier than toilet paper for awhile.

Brian mumbled something and shifted, Dom turning around, just in time to watch him fall off his precarious bed.

"Fuck!" Brian hissed, wide awake now, but sprawled on the floor.

"Bed's empty," Dom said and Brian jerked around, startled, swearing again as he pulled something.

"Thanks tons. Really," Brian snarled at him, getting up carefully. "What are you doing?"

"Checking for your friends," Dom said glancing out the window again. Brian didn't say anything but he came forward, limping a little. Dom held the blind back and Brian stared. "Cops?"

"Maybe. You want me to go ask them?"

"Oh, yeah, that would be good to know," Dom said, the sarcasm summoned a whole lot easier than anything else.

Before he knew it, Brian was heading for the door and out. "You freak," Dom muttered under his breath but kept watching as Brian trotted across the streetlight -silvered yard. He had brains enough to approach the car carefully. Hell, maybe some guy was spying on his wife and her boyfriend.

Brian stopped a couple of feet from the car. No way for Dom to hear what was being said, but he tensed a little when a guy got out of the passenger side and Brian backed up a couple more feet, out of reach.

Raised voices maybe, and the guy started crowding Brian -- not that Brian gave ground this time. Shit...…Dom glanced at the door. Maybe they weren't cops, maybe Brian had just interrupted a drug deal.

There was a shove and Brian skittered back but came back in, fists up. It looked like it was going to get ugly and Dom had half a second to wonder how much good he was going to be before he was headed for the door.

In those few seconds though, when Dom could see out the glass transom, the other guy had gotten out of the car and was between them, holding his partner, his buddy, back and Brian was pointing his finger in that irritating way he had, before he headed back.

Shit for brains, Dom thought, leaning back against the wall inside the door.

"Are you trying to get your ass kicked?" he asked when Brian was inside.

Brian slammed the door. "Fuck you. What were you going to do? Rescue me?" he demanded. His face was flushed, body tense.

"Who were they?"

"Avon ladies. Who do you think?"

Cops then. "They gonna come in?"

"Yeah, I invited them to breakfast," Brian said and paced the living room, glaring at Dom after two passes. "You know you are pretty much stuck here until they get called off."

"How long will that be?"

"Who knows," Brian said raking a hand through his hair and then dropping down into one of the chairs. "Just because they haven't charged me yet, doesn't mean they won't. You can't stay here, Dom."

Dom shrugged, "As good a place as any. Brian..." he said and then took a breath and closed the distance between them. "I have to make sure Mia is okay. Letty and Leon, they can take care of themselves. Vince..." He shook his head.

"You can't help him. Not now," Brian said quietly. "Will he talk?"

"Vince? Naw," Dom said and sat down on the arm of the love seat, gingerly. It was a hell of a lot firmer than the cushions. "What have they got?'

Brian looked up at and eased back a little, he dropped his gaze as if the floor would suddenly provide him with a list. "Circumstantial, mostly, because I'm assuming they aren't going to find your last take?" Brian asked, eyes flickering up and Dom gave him a cautious shake of his head. "Good," Brian breathed out and flexed his fingers. "Letty's car was so much scrap on the highway and yours not much better. If they get prints...…it won't take much to get something on her, on you. A solid case on the hijackings depends a lot on how good a look the truck driver got of you or Vince...or me. Me, he got a pretty good look at. But, he didn't lose his cargo and I'm betting that gun of his will cause him some trouble. It might. They aren't going to drop it easily, though. I wasn't kidding about the rail crossing. They have enough to get you put back in even if only for a couple of years, even without convicting you on the hijackings. Without that, Letty, Leon and Vince are only looking at moving violations, maybe assault, and hard time only if they have priors or a seriously hard-assed judge."

Dom chewed on that. Vince had a couple of drunk and disorderlys but still nothing that would get him much time. Letty had nothing outside of some juvie crap, nor did Leon.

"They should be clear," he said gruffly. "They just drove," he said, hedging still despite believing Brian was telling him straight up.

Brian nodded. "Your car is peppered with that guy's buckshot, Dom. They can get you on that and with your record, it wouldn't take much. But..." His voice was quiet, words falling together slowly, like he was winding down. "They can't pin Johnny Tran on you," he added after a moment, looking up.

"Lance, though..."

"Not dead," Brian said and sniffed, rubbing at his face. "He won't be riding anything but a wheelchair for awhile, though. And they will nail him for killing Jesse," Brian said flatly, almost coldly.

That would be one failure avenged, even if Dom didn't do it himself.

"And you?" Dom prodded.

Brian gave him a dry chuckle. "Aside for a few dozen code of conduct violations? Obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting...if they catch you," he said and got up. "Coming after me isn't going to accomplish anything but saving someone's bruised ego. Look, Dom..I'm sorry, okay? It may not mean jack-shit to you, but I never meant for anyone to get hurt. We were trying to stop that from happening, from anyone getting killed. I didn't know it would get so...complicated." He took a breath and shook his head. "I'm gonna grab a shower. In the morning I'll head out. I need to get food and shit. If we're lucky, they'll follow me. If they do, there's a pay phone down at the drug store on the corner. Call Mia, do what you have to do, but get the hell out, okay? I'm sure you can figure out a way to get into Mexico, maybe Canada. Whatever you need to do." He held Dom's eyes for a long moment before dropping his gaze. "If you got unfinished business with me, settle it, tell me how to…but..." he shook his head and lifted a hand helplessly before heading toward the bathroom.

Dom didn't move for a long time, cocking his head when he heard the water start and moving when it stopped. He caught a glimpse of Brian from the bedroom door, pulling on shorts. Brian stared at him, then backed up. "I'm not doing the sofa again. You want to crash, I won't notice," he said and made his way to the far side of the bed to simply flop down onto the mattress.

Dom eased himself down more gently, bunching his half of the coverlet and blankets under his shoulder and trying to settle. Beside him, Brian was once more breathing evenly, body relaxed, fast asleep. Dom stared at the ceiling for awhile.

There was unfinished business between them, yeah, but Dom was wondering if he even really understood what it was, because even at the deepest point of his anger, he kept getting stuck on one point: If Brian had planned on trashing his career, on holding out on the cops, on becoming no less of a criminal than Dom was, why the hell hadn't he offered Dom a ride instead of the keys?

Maybe he thought Dom would say no. Maybe he'd been afraid Dom would say yes.

Maybe Dom was afraid of what he'd have said if Brian asked.

 

###  Part Three:

 

Death before coffee was not an option. Preferable, but not an option. Only he didn't actually have any coffee in the house.

He half expected Dom to be awake already, but either the drugs or sheer exhaustion kept him down, kept him silent, and let Brian actually process the fact that Dominic Toretto was snoring in his bed. That he not only had aided and abetted a criminal but was now harboring a fugitive.

Life just got better and better.

He bit back a groan as he got up, hardly believing that he could feel worse than he had the night before, but there it was. His whole chest hurt and his arms and the absolute fact of the clutch on his mustang made him wonder if it wouldn't be better to walk down to McDonald's and get caffeine.

The softly muttered "Fuck," when he got up probably deserved an apology. Dom was awake, and the rigid way he now lay on the bed was a good indication that he felt worse than Brian did. There was a certain satisfaction in the thought.

He moved anyway, offering a hand for Dom to take or not. The glare he ignored but he got another twinge when he had to put a good deal more leverage into his stance to get Dom upright than his body actually wanted to provide.

Upright, though, Dom looked a hell of lot worse than Brian felt. "I'll get the pills," he said and Dom could only nod. Even that looked like it hurt.

There were only three left and Brian brought back one and water. If he was going for coffee, he could get ibuprofen as well. "I'm gonna head out for a few minutes. Coffee. Breakfast," he said pulling on his jeans and digging for a clean t-shirt. "Don't try for the phone yet, I'm just gonna hit the corner. Anything you need?"

"A bullet would be nice right about now," Dom said and Brian found his mouth twitching.

"Sorry. They took my gun. And yours is out of ammo."

"Unless the drugstore sells bullets, I guess I'm good then," Dom grunted, then, "Thanks."

Brian only nodded and found his wallet.

The car on the corner was different and Brian stared at it for a long time from his porch, just to let them know he knew they were there. He'd have liked to be a lot more pissed off about the surveillance, except the irony of it was pretty funny when he thought about it. Bilkins had made noises about Brian turning, that maybe the money Dom and his team had made on the truck jackings had tempted him more than anything. The surveillance was there because Bilkins half-thought Brian might go running after Dom, given the chance. He doubted it crossed any of their minds that Dom might come looking for him. It really hadn't crossed his.

The CVS was hardly the Mecca of retail, and the burglar bars on this one always made Brian feel nervous anyway, but he'd forgotten just how much stuff they carried. No coffee made but he grabbed a pound of canned grounds and milk, trying not to go overboard if only because the prices were outrageous and he was walking. But he did manage to find a pair of sweatpants and a couple of t-shirts that looked like they would fit Dom. Washed or not, his clothes were torn and not likely to hold up much longer.

Fifteen minutes and two bags later he was paying the clerk.

He hadn't actually paid attention to see if either of his shadows had followed him, but the phone was right there and the likelihood that they had tapped it was slim. Dialing made him nervous as well. He wasn't really worried about what Mia would say, more about what he could possibly say to her.

"Hello?" On the second ring and Mia sound both hopeful and tired in just that one word.

"Mia, it's Brian."

There was dead silence and then a click and the dial tone.

Strike one. He dialed again. It took longer this time and Brian could almost see her staring at the phone like it would bite her. God, Mia, come on, he thought, betting that she wasn't enough like Dom to actually pull the phone out of the wall.

The ringing stopped and Brian gulped air. "Mia, Mia, please don't hang up," he said glancing around to see if anyone in particular was watching him. There were a couple of people in the store, the clerk, but no one really seemed to be paying him that much attention.

"What do you want, Brian? I don't know where he is and I wouldn't tell you," she said, voice firmer and there was anger creeping in there, too.

"I know. I need to talk to you but not on the phone," he said and waited, knowing the risk he was taking if Mia's phone was tapped.

"An apology isn't going to go over any better in person, cop," she said, and Brian almost smiled. There was more of Dominic Toretto in his sister than Brian realized.

"Maybe not, but in person, you could slap me and you'd probably feel better."

"Never having met you will make me feel better, you bastard. Leave me alone, Brian. Nothing you can say is going to make this all right."

"I know…I know, but what I have to say, might help," he said. "Mia, this isn't about you and me," he said.

"No kidding."

"Mia! Why I want to see you isn't about you and me, but I can help. I can help you," he said almost willing her to grab onto something. "Where are you going to be?"

"Wha--? Brian, you aren't making any sense. I'm home."

"Where are you going to be?"

He waited. He could hear her breathing, heard it when she took a sharper stuttering breath. "At the mall. I need to pick up something on layaway at Torrid."

"I'll meet you there…at noon." When the mall would be filled with people on their lunch break. "Do they carry men's clothes?"

"No," she said confusion evident.

"Too bad. I could use some new pants and shirts," he said. "Noon."

"Yeah."

"It'll be okay, Mia."

"No, Brian. No, it won't, but I'll see you at noon."

She hung up before he could say anything else. No surprise there. He replaced the receiver and grabbed up his bags.

He didn't bother looking back. The car was still there, his house quiet.

He didn't see Dom immediately and set the bags down to hunt him down. It wasn't like there were a lot of places to disappear into. The bedroom was clear but there was Dom, in the bathroom, struggling with the sling.

"I talked to Mia," Brian said from the doorway and Dom's head came up staring at him in the mirror. "I'm going to meet her at noon." He stepped in when Dom turned, and Brian pulled the muslin sling away and then reached over to reset it, waiting until Dom had eased his arm into the fabric before setting the tension.

"She's gonna meet with you," Dom said, half disbelieving, raising an eyebrow. "You might want to think about body armor."

That jerked a chuckle from Brian. "It crossed my mind. I need to talk to her where no one can hear," Brian said and backed up. Dom followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Brian made coffee and pulled out a box of granola bars and a couple of frozen breakfast burritos. "What do you want me to tell her?" he asked.

The expression on Dom's face changed slightly, softening, easing the harsh, full lines. Eyes that so usually cut into Brian like dissecting knives lost focus. "Oh…aww shit. That I'm okay. That it's…" Dom fumbled with the wrappings on the burritos, but he managed to get them off, find a plate and work the microwave. Brian didn't move away -- the kitchen was too small -- but he gave Dom some space, nonetheless.

Dom stared at the slowly spinning food for a long minute before turning back to Brian. "I need to talk to her," he said.

Chewing on his lip, Brian pulled down coffee mugs. "I…I'll try to think of something. Does she need anything, money or --"

"No. No. She's good there," Dom said and settled back against the counter. "It's all in her name, Brian. The house, the store, the garage. The checking accounts. It has been since…We did it when I was in Lompoc. Never changed any of it. She's got money for school, everything. She doesn't even need to touch what we…" he hesitated there and gave Brian a hard look.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was thinking. "I'm not a cop anymore. Not a functioning one anyway."

"I trusted you once."

"Then do it again," Brian said, not really surprised, but this hurt. More because he knew he deserved it.

"Did you actually ever do time?" Dom asked.

"Yeah," Brian said, wondering if that were part of the trust test. It was a truly fucked up world when you only trusted other criminals.. "Pretty much what you saw."

"Earl?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Yes. It's my dad's name. Spilner was my mother's maiden name."

Dom only waited.

"They are both still alive," Brian started. "But…I don't see them much. My mom…she took off when I was fifteen. My dad," he stopped. Getting into his own family history was not something he really wanted to share with Dom -- or anyone. "We don't get along."

"They doctored the records."

"Something like that. If Jesse….if Jesse had known to look for Brian O'Conner, he'd have found that too. Nothing ever really disappears from the internet. But they tried." The coffee was done and Brian poured just as the microwave pinged. He added milk and grabbed the plate, tossing his head toward the bar stools at the end of the counter. Dom managed his mug and Brian divvied up the food.

"I should have listened to Vince," Dom said, tearing off a section of burrito. "He's got like, a sense, about cops."

It made Brian wonder what else Vince could sense but he wasn't going there. "Why didn't you?"

The corners of Dom's lips pulled down, which Brian found less indicative of a frown than Dom trying not to smile or laugh. "Because I didn't think a cop could come up with a story so lame. But an over-eager road puppy could," he said, eyeing Brian coolly.

Over-eager puppy. Great.

"How did you become a cop?"

Brian covered his answer by taking a big bite of food and chewing. Now they were back into family territory and it made him uncomfortable. "Same way you got into racing…my dad."

"Your dad is a cop."

"Was. He's retired. Disabled." Angry, bitter, violent. Brian took another bite, not liking the expression on Dom's face. "It seemed like the thing to do. It made him happy." Made him get off Brian's back.

"How long do you think they'll watch you? Or Mia?"

"No way to know. A few days, a week. Depends on how much flack hit the fan. What are you going to do?"

Dom looked away then sipped at his coffee. Even with the sling it was all fluid, all one motion like he never really stopped moving but at the same time the stillness around him made Brian want to fidget. "Make sure Mia's okay. Find a place…everybody everywhere needs mechanics."

Dom wasn't going to tell him. Either he didn't trust him still, and really, that was no surprise. Or he didn't know.

"Mexico's not far."

"They extradite from Mexico," Dom said mildly and got up to get a fork.

"Only if it's worth the hassle and usually, it's not," Brian said.

"Tired of my company already? You're really hurting my feelings here, Bri."

"I don't want you caught."

Dom stopped, halfway back to his seat, fork raised, his head tilted down, eyeing Brian slantwise. "Why is that? I still haven't figured that out. Because of Mia?"

"No…yeah. Because of Mia. She deserves better," Brian said, feeling his blood run cold and his face run hot. Suddenly he wasn't hungry any longer. "I believed you when you said you'd never go back, do time."

"I meant it," Dom said and sat down again, applying himself to his food. "Most guys would. You did time--"

"I did juvie. It's a little different," Brian said and got up. "You want this?" He shoved his plate toward Dom and finished his coffee. His keys were still on the counter and he snatched them up. "I'm going to meet Mia."

Dom's eyes slid to the clock over the stove. "It's nine o'clock."

"Better they follow me."

"So they can see you talking to Mia? That works."

"As long as they don't hear me, it won't be that weird."

"That you're talking to a fugitive's sister -- and she's talking to you? No, no, that's normal, everyday, bullshit, Brian!" Dom said and was up, his voice edging back into hard, harsh anger. "What are you doing, Brian? What do you want?" he had jabbing a finger toward Brian's chest. "Feeling guilty for fucking my sister to get to me?"

Brian never intended it, didn't even think about it. It was as instinctive as lashing out at Muse. It seemed Dom wasn't expecting it either, because Brian's fist connected with his jaw with enough force to rock him backward and send a shock up Brian's arm.

Dom staggered back, reaching out to grip the counter. His jaw was already red, but he was slower to recover with his arm in a sling and just as instinctively Brian reached out to keep him from falling.

Dom slapped his hand away, glaring at him, looking like he wanted to return the blow but he was in no condition to and they both knew it.

Swearing, Brian dug back into the freezer for ice and snatched up a towel, wrapping the slivers up and then slamming the packet on the counter. "I had already gotten to you. I didn't need to fuck your sister to do it. You're not the only charming one in your family, Toretto," Brian said and caught up his keys again. He didn't look back as he slammed out of the house.

All in all the drive did him good, but he spent most of the last hour of it sitting in the parking lot, alternately people watching and staring at nothing.

Dom asked questions Brian didn't really have all the answers to, and the answers he did have weren't likely to make either of them happy.

But the last question lingered. It was fair, if only from Dom's perspective. From Mia's too, but as Brian had so aptly proved, he was a lousy liar and always had been.

Mia was all the things he should want: beautiful, smart, mind of her own, sweet, loyal, accepting, she didn't need anyone's protection really. She could be as tough as her brother, but without all the posturing and attitude. Dom's baby sister or not, the rest of his team respected her for who she was, something he wasn't sure Mia had ever seen, or could have seen, not from inside that tight-knit family.

It hadn't exactly been a chore to have her in his bed, or to be seen as something, someone, different and new and special. For both of them. Using her hadn't been the plan, but there was no escaping the fact that he knew she'd see it that way, regardless. No matter how it ended up. Even if he'd managed to get them shut down without blowing his cover, he'd have still ended up leaving her, probably when she needed him most. Maybe even worse off than she was now; without her brother and without the man she was falling in love with.

He'd never been the man she thought he was. Never could be. There was that trust and betrayal thing, again.

At quarter till, he headed in, checking the mall directory and finding the store. His eyes got a little wide. Not exactly the kind of shop guys would hang out in except to ogle the women who shopped there. He wondered how much of Letty's wardrobe had come out of here.

The music was annoyingly loud, some techno pop thing that had lyrics that never made it past the sound of the crowd in the mall. He saw Mia before she saw him, at the counter, idly fingering some sparkly beaded headbands. She had bags with her and he ducked past a rack of bustiers. "Mia," he said and she looked up as he approached.

Her hand came up and across his face with about as much warning as Brian had given Dom. It didn't quite rattle his teeth but it stung and she managed to just catch the edge of the bruise on his jaw that he'd nearly forgotten about.

There was no way for the place to go silent, but nearly every head in Brian's range of vision turned and stared.

"Feel better?" he asked, tasting blood.

"Maybe. Let me try again," she said and Brian caught her wrist, but there was no real force behind the second swing. She smirked at him. "You said you wanted to help," she added sweetly.

Brian let go of her and shook his head. "Let's go look at clothes or something."

"Let's not."

Ducking his head, Brian leaned in, and saw her tense. "Dom is at my place," he said quietly.

Mia searched his face, lips parting and then looking around before she suddenly turned and headed back to where racks of long filmy skirts and dresses rose nearly to her head height. She moved swiftly to the back of the rack and Brian glanced back as well, seeing two guys at the opening of the store. Hard to say if they were waiting for their girlfriends or waiting for him.

By the time he looked back at Mia, her eyes were moist and her lips set. "Is he okay?"

"He's…," nursing a sore jaw, "...gonna be. Messed up his arm. He's banged up. He rolled the Charger."

"I heard," she said and glanced up, looking calmer. "The cops…they said he stole your car."

"Not quite. I gave him the keys."

"Sure you did."

Brian closed his eyes and wiped at his face. "Whatever. I want to help, Mia, but I can't fight both of you. Dom doesn't trust me either."

"Did you think he would?" she said tightly. "But he came to you. Why?"

"Unfinished business, he said."

"And you're still standing? He must be worse off than you are saying."

"Well, he did say hello with a gun," Brian snarled back, then took a breath. It wasn't like he thought this would easy. "Mia, I do not want to see your brother do time."

"You should have thought of that before you decided to lie to us and come after him," she said and pulled away.

Brian grabbed her arm, and blocked another swing that looked a lot more serious than a slap on the face.

They were causing a scene, and he pulled her back a few feet toward the dressing rooms, before she pulled away. "Don't you fucking touch me," she snarled.

Brian held up both hands in surrender, half expecting her to walk away. But she didn't, she took a deep breath and glared at him, waiting. "Mia…when I got pulled for this case, all I knew about your brother was from his files: his police file, his prison record. I knew he was dead center in the middle of things as far as street racing went. We were looking at him, the Trans, Hector, Edwin, a half dozen suspects who had the skill and muscle enough to do the kind of precision driving that was being reported," his voice dropped lower and Mia was forced to move closer to hear him. "I never wanted to believe it was Dom. He seemed too smart, too together…he was…you were…" He sounded like an idiot. "I liked you, him, the whole…" He stopped, searching her face. "He wasn't anything like I expected him to be. Neither were you. But I was in it and with me or without me, they'd have gone after him, and it would have been more than one stupid cop in a souped up Supra. It would have been a takedown force like the one that hammered the Trans. You know him better than I do. Do you think he would have come out of it alive?"

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't look like he was wasting her time either. Mostly she looked sad and tired and worried and just…unsure. "He wants to see you, but my place is being watched and both our phones are probably being tapped."

"He should have just…left," she said finally and scooped the hair off her face before glancing around and finally backing up to sit on the edge of one of the benches outside the dressing rooms. Cautiously, Brian sat down beside her.

"He won't, not until he talks to you. Makes sure you're okay."

"Okay? Brian, none of this is ever going to be okay," she said and dropped her head forward into her hands, rocking a little. He rubbed her back, carefully at first but more rhythmically when she didn't jerk away. After a few moments she stopped, a shudder running through her but when she lifted her head, her face was calm, even if she still looked like she wanted to cry. "He's got to go. Going back to prison…it'd kill him, Brian. Better he does it at 140 like Dad. What do you need me to do?"

"Uh…" This hadn't been as difficult as he thought. Or maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Mia was level headed, smart. "He needs clothes…" he said lamely.

Mia's mouth twitched and she held up the bag.

"You did understand what I was trying to say," he accused.

"I hoped. I expected him to call me…something. To get in touch. I just didn't expect it to be through you."

"They probably followed me…uh, let's go shopping," he said and she looked ready to balk but got up.

They ended up at the Gap, Brian purchasing a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts and Mia slipped her packages into his. She didn't stay close and she didn't act like they were…together. Their subterfuge done, she guided him to the food court and an open table. Food was more about cover than hunger, but she picked at a salad, while Brian actually made some serious headway into some Chinese food. "Can he stay with you?" she asked. "I mean will they look for him there?"

"I don't know. Honestly. They're watching me, but no one…if they have more questions, I'm guessing they'll call. It's not the safest place for him." And it would definitely be awkward for any length of time…they'd be crowding each other, getting on each other's nerves, and Dom was likely to beat the shit out of him as soon as he got his strength back. Although given how Brian had left him, he might not wait that long.

"And if I came to see you, like tomorrow…" she asked and Brian could almost see it in her eyes, how badly she needed to see her brother, check on him herself. "Would that make it worse?"

Brian wasn't sure it could get worse. "Mia, I don't know…I mean, they know, they know we had a…thing. The start of something," he said awkwardly. "They might follow up on it, they might call, bring me in. I don't know if they'd toss the house. If they did, there's no place for him to hide, he can't go out. He'd be stuck there for however long…"

"No…he can get out, if they're following you," she said. "That much I can do. He got to you…he can get to…wherever I can leave him what he needs. If you help. If you really want to help, like you said."

"I do…but it's risky," he said but grabbed a napkin to write down his address and phone number.

"Staying in LA is risky for him, Brian. So, you'll do it? I'll come by tomorrow…I'll have what he needs. You find a way to get them to follow you. He'll be gone by the time you get back. I'll call it even."

"Will Dom?"

Mia didn't smile as she gathered up her barely touched meal and got up to throw it away. "You'll have to ask him," she said and grabbed up the address. She walked away without another word.

 

###  Part Four:

The towel was wet by the time Dom recovered enough to realize that, at the moment, his face hurt more than his arm. Sucker punched. He was glad there were no witnesses.

Brian had left with a weak screech of rubber. The flashy looking but not very impressive Mustang hauling its five speed carcass down the street. It surprised Dom that Brian would drive a piece of trash like that without making improvements.

Then again, exactly how much did cops make nowadays?

Another engine caught his attention and he made his way to the front. He didn't see the car leave but the corner across the street was empty. If this stupid ass stunt got Mia hauled in again, he really was gonna kill him.

Not that he'd know, damn it. He wasn't used to being this cut off, being unable to get to people, information. To get out. It was way too much like being back in prison. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that no, it wasn't. That he actually could walk out of here, make it to his car -- Brian's car -- and take off.

Or not. Not really Brian's car, apparently. That could be whole other problem. It wouldn't be marked, he didn't think. Even if the cops had put a GPS tracker in the wrecked hulk Brian had towed to his garage, they'd stripped the chassis down to the factory welds and rebuilt her. Jesse would have found anything even remotely resembling high tech hardware on the junker.

God, Jesse. What had the kid been thinking? When had he gotten so bold, so separate, to do anything like put up his car on a race without talking to Dom? Jesse, who could tune an engine by ear alone, who could speed shift like some car-lover's legend. Jesse, who would forget he was supposed to pick up a loaf of bread when they sent him to the store. He'd come back with junk food, and Red Bull, and talking a mile a minute and be apologetic and feel stupid until Mia would kiss him on the forehead and get him to help her and send Vince out instead.

There was lingering anger there for Leon, who obviously knew about the race, who knew how Jesse was and hadn't come to Dom before it was too late. Jesse hadn't come to him either.

Dom would have gotten his car back. Didn't Jesse know that? He'd have raced or put up cash or put up pink slips until Jesse had his ride back. Like Dom didn't owe him something, everything. Only half of his wins had been in his skill, the other half had all been Jesse's hands under the hood of his car, tuning and tweaking and massaging a thousand parts until the cars practically leapt off the start line.

He'd wanted to be done with it: the Trans, the scrabbling to put together a haul that would set them all up for life. So much of it had started out to be not about the money but about the rush. The first job they'd done, Dom had been honestly surprised they hadn't all cracked up, that the truck hadn't left at least one of them a smear on the black top. The rush, the money…too much of a good thing. It was like crack, had made them all tighter, bonded them together. His team, his family. One more job. He'd planned on that being it, the last one maybe. Even when Brian had asked, had wanted in, and Dom had been thinking, it's too late. We're done.

When Jesse disappeared he'd given half a thought to cutting Brian in right then and there. Mia liked him, it still would have been family. But he hadn't driven with them and seriously? Vince would have probably ditched just out of spite.

No way to pin any of this on Brian, only on himself. Wrong, wrong…he'd been out of sorts after his fight with Johnny. Pissed off and full of the energy that hadn't quite worked its way out by beating the smile of the Asian prick's face. Pissed at Jesse, at Leon…all of them. No way to go into a job. He should have been calm, he should have listened to Letty, to Leon.

He checked the street again, and saw nothing, no one. His jaw ached and he pressed the swelling on the inside with his tongue. There was actually some humor in Brian defending his sister's honor.

He was sweating by the time he reached the drugstore and the phone. He had ditched the sling but on the walk he wondered if it were a good idea. He still looked the bad end of a bar fight, and people looked away, quickly.

Even while he was dialing Hector he had doubts. The car…the car was the last thing Jesse had done right. A legacy maybe. Nothing else for Dom to remember him with, not even the blood stains on his shirt.

The whole deal made Hector uncomfortable and Dom didn't blame him, but there wasn't anyone else he trusted to both skim the car and make it unrecognizable. Even with the workout Brian had given it, there were thousands of dollars worth of parts that Hector could use and Dom offered to make it sweeter.

His chest ached by the time he slipped back into Brian's house, tense and nervous, but when, after an hour, no one had busted the door in, he figured he'd made it clear. The feeling of being imprisoned was gone too.

The frozen burritos were pretty bland, but he nuked two and grabbed a beer, eye on the clock. He was bored out of his mind but it really wasn't that big of a deal. If Lompoc had taught him anything, other than he never again wanted to see the world through bars, it was patience. His fingers itched to do something though, and he found some distraction in hunting up Brian's crap-ass toolbox and fixing the leaky shower head.

How long had Brian lived here, anyway? The closet held clothes and his tools, a couple of boxes of what looked like papers, stapled articles and a cursory search exposed more than one LAPD letterhead. None of them were more than a few years old. No pictures though, nothing that revealed anything about who Brian O'Conner was before he'd suddenly shown up at the market looking for a tuna sandwich. Everybody had a past. He didn't even have cable for Christ's sake. No wonder his furniture looked like Goodwill rejects. Brian didn't live here, he just slept here.

The Mustang's uneven rumble brought his attention back and Dom fingered his jaw. He wasn't going to forget that. He might not do anything about it but he wouldn't forget it.

Brian pulled up to the curb and got out, but he hadn't taken two steps when the unmarked Crown Victoria pulled up behind him. Dom pulled back from the door, not sure they could see him with the porch overhang but not really wanting to make that kind of statement about his courage.

Doors slamming, voices. It was muddy and indistinct and he pulled back further.

Brian's voice then, closer. Cool, hard…he could make out the tone but not the words.

The hallway was shadowed, the voices clearer. Shit. If they came in and found him here... He backed up more, into the bedroom, putting his back to the wall just beyond the door. He'd left the remnants of his meal in the kitchen.

The loud thump against the door confused him. The sharp grunt and curse -- Brian -- explained a lot and he dared to look. Shadows and movement and he heard the crack of glass, starting forward when he saw the blond head hit the glass, spider webs appearing and then slivers of glass falling inside.

Brian's shoulder slid along the transom pane, the door rattling and Dom had to force himself to stop, to not open the door, to not help somehow. He felt like a coward, was a coward and if these guys -- these cops -- meant to kill Brian? And what was it about Brian that seemed to invite this shit? Yesterday, today, Vince. On second thought, he understood the urge.

Fuck it all. He reached the door, heard the sharp, cut off squawk that guys only made for one reason. He could see them, both of them, their faces burning into his mind as they backed away and he ducked sideways. They weren't looking up, but down, and Dom did too, could just see the top of Brian's head pressed against the glass at the bottom of the side transom. He was laying across the doorway, but his fingers were moving, there was movement. He was breathing.

And Dom still couldn't help him, couldn't get to him without making it worse. He sank down, eyes up as the two put their backs to Brian and walked away. The Crown Victoria started up, but they only did a u-ey in the street and ended back up on the corner. Assholes. Total, fucking pricks.

"Brian…" Dom called to him, saw him move. "Brian, come on man, get up. Open the door," he coaxed.. He got something that sounded like pretty coarse language, but Brian wasn't moving as much. "Get off your ass, O'Conner, and open the damn door!" If the assholes across the street had directional mikes, it was all over.

But nothing happened there. The car didn't move. Brian did though, rolling forward, and Dom caught sight of his face, blood on his chin, more blood when he coughed and spat out a wet stain onto the worn wood. "That's it. Come on," Dom murmured, rising when Brian got to his hands and knees.

What little view of Brian he had disappeared as Brian rocked back. Another thump against the door and more glass fell, splintering. Dom put his hand on the door, and saw the knob turn, and helped it along, stepping back, praying the light differential would hide him, his shadow. Brian almost fell in, hunched over, blood splattering the floor when he coughed, and Dom didn't wait any longer, grabbing him under the arm and hearing something like a cross between a whimper and a growl before Brian was in and turning toward him. Dom kicked the door shut, which sent the rest of the upper transom pane shattering in both directions.

His left arm twinged and screamed at him but he got it around Brian's chest, his better, stronger arm around his waist. Brian was still hunched over, protecting his crotch, his ribs, steps as uneven as a dancing drunk. If he fell, Dom wasn't sure he could get him up again, but he let Brian lean and guided him back, away from the front room.

"Dom, Dom…stop." Not like Brian's voice at all, but wheezy and thready and weak. Dom stopped, got a better grip on him and let Brian lean on him, against him.

"The bed, Bri…that far. Come on…come on. Vince hit you harder with the rifle butt," he said, urging him on.

And Brian laughed. It was strangled, gurgling, wet, but laugher. "It's not the force, it's the where," Brian managed but he staggered forward.

Dom tried to ease his descent onto the bed, but whatever strength or will or stubbornness had gotten Brian this far deserted him, and he all but fell, curled up, burying his face in the pillows and leaving ugly smears of blood on the fabric.

The imprint of shoes, boots, scuffed dirt and more blood were obvious on his t-shirt, on his face, his forearms, where he'd tried to protect his head. His knuckles were bleeding, scraped. He hoped Brian sent one of them to the dentist.

Wet towels were the best he could offer, wiping at Brian's face, the blood at his mouth. He was still curled up, sweat on his skin. He probably needed a doctor, could. Dom had been in this kind of fight.

Coaxing, sometimes commanding, he got Brian to uncurl a little, checked his ribs and found some soft, tender places he didn't like before he went to the kitchen to grab more ice and towels.

"You smart off to them?" he asked, when Brian's eyes blinked open, focused on him. His pupils were a little too dark and Dom sincerely hoped it was because of the dim light in the room.

"Just…no one hates cops more than other cops. Dirty cops," Brian murmured.

Dirty? "Because you let me go?"

Brian made a small movement with his head, denial. "They think there's more…that I …turned." He shifted and gasped, tried to curl up again.

Over Mia…or the money. Jesus.

Dom got him to uncurl again and wrapped up the towel tighter, pressing it to Brian's crotch. He tried to squirm away and Dom leaned into him. "No, Brian, let me…you gotta--"

Brian went still, eyes closed tightly, breathing fast. Dom tried to press the ice in firmly but gently but he knew it had to be excruciating, the pressure. "Just hang in there, bro," he said easing back and reaching for the snap and zipper.

"Dom…"

"Shut up," Dom said and felt heat in his own face. No underwear, great, and he caught a glimpse of skin beneath dark hair: reddened flesh, swelling. This could be bad. Really bad. He'd seen guys in Lompoc end up in the infirmary for weeks over this kind of beating. Pissing blood, hardly able to stand up straight. Brian's fingernails dug into his arm.

"Don't."

"Brian, shut up. This will help…just--I don't like you that much. Don't sweat it."

The nails dug deeper but Brian didn't try to pull away. "You do like me. Mia said so."

He peeled Brian's fingers from his forearm, letting him grip his hand as hard as he needed to. "What, you're gonna believe my sister over me?"

"She doesn't have a record," Brian got out, then gripped hard when Dom shifted the ice a bit.

"Shh…" Dom said. "It's gonna be okay. It'll pass."

Eventually the worst did, Brian's grip easing, his breathing slowing and Dom eased back when Brian's hand replaced his own to hold the ice in place. "I'm gonna get you one of the painkillers," Dom said, getting up, and feeling his own back pull and twists.

"Ibuprofen…in the bags from this morning," Brian got out and Dom raised an eyebrow at him before leaving. He brought back both. Brian didn't even look, just swallowed them down and tried to uncurl a bit more. "God, I need to piss," he said, and there was something akin to terror in his eyes at the thought.

"You don't. It'll pass. Just try to relax," Dom said, sitting on the bed below the curve of Brian's knees. "You saw Mia," he said, wanting to know, wanting to distract Brian if he could.

Shifting his head on the pillow, Brian nodded. "Yeah...oh, shit. She's coming by tomorrow…to get you…I'm supposed to let them follow me. She's gonna…she wants you to leave. She said she could help."

He should have waited before calling Hector. Damn it. They weren't working good together, he and Brian. His own fault. "We'll put her off. You can call her…just tell her not to come," Dom said.

"No…no. She's right. I can do it. I will," Brian shifted again, pulling the ice away struggling to sit up and Dom pressed down hard on his hip.

"Don't. There's nothing you can do. Just…chill, Brian. You just got the shit kicked out of you. Prove to me you didn't take one to the head." Firmly, he guided the ice pack back in place.

Stubborn, Brian might be, but when he was whipped, he was whipped. He settled back down, closing his eyes. Dom didn't move, hand still resting on Brian's hip, until his own stiffness demanded that he do something. Brian's hand was lax, barely holding the ice and Dom got fresh, ignoring the mumbling and the weak batting of Brian's hand. The extra pillow on the bed was pressure enough and he left Brian there. There was no other place to sit in the bedroom and he headed back into the front room, staring out the broken window at the car across the street, wondering if maybe Hector might do him another favor, then scotched it. The last thing he wanted to do was bring the cops down on anyone else.

He pulled off the sling and tested his arm, wincing at the pull, the protest he could still feel. It was better though because he could actually do this without black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Brian's magazines were out of date, worse than a doctor's office, but Dom settled, half listening, half ignoring the pass of minutes. The magazine lay ignored on his lap as he watched the shadows shift, counted cars on the road. Tried not to think of how much he had truly fucked up this time.

A sound from the bedroom brought him out of the chair, and he found Brian on his feet, hugging the wall, jeans sliding down and threatening to trip him. He really, truly did not have any hips.

"What are you doing?"

"I really need to piss," Brian said, not happy about it, but serious.

"You are so going to regret this," Dom said, but he was there, putting his good arm under Brian's shoulder and managing to snag a belt loop to pull his jeans up. Brian was still hunched over, grabbing for the wall. Dom had to let go of him to get through the bathroom door.

Any other time, under other circumstances, Dom might have found it funny. Mia had caught Vince in the balls once, by accident when he was getting fresh, but with nowhere near the force that had been slammed into Brian's crotch. They had teased Vince mercilessly while he howled and swore and walked funny for a couple of hours. He'd been extra special considerate, if not wary, of Mia, for weeks.

He stepped up behind Brian when he grabbed for the sink. "I'm fine," Brian hissed out.

"Yeah, I know…" Dom assured him, not touching him, staring at the walls. The groan that escaped Brian made him wince but nothing was happening, and his breath was coming faster. Without a word, Dom reached over and turned on the taps Brian jerked back at the sound, then grunted, looking like he wanted to vomit when a weak stream of pink-tinged urine trickled from his dick. "You should go…can you drive? Brian, you should see a doctor."

Brian only shook his head, leaning forward, the strain obvious, face pale and wet. There was nothing, really, Dom could do for him except make sure he didn't pass out, or if he did, keep him from taking a header into the shower or the toilet. His face was swelling, his shirt stained and damp.

"Shower," Brian said at last and Dom hesitated but then maneuvered around to start the water.

"Bath might do you better."

"Not unless you plan on drowning me in it," Brian said, and finally shifted his focus to grip the sink with both hands, toeing off his shoes, daring to push his jeans down.

Their situations were ironically reversed, although Brian managed his shirt by himself, while Dom kicked the jeans and shoes aside so Brian wouldn't trip over them. "I'm not going to pass out," Brian said, when Dom offered him a hand to step over the tub edge. They had whole sets of matching bruises now, Dom noticed, except somehow they looked worse on Brian's skin, paler even with his California tan, mottled red and darker purples. The ones high on his chest though, they weren't as fresh: dark lines were edging toward yellow, just above his sternum -- a long line, not like the obvious boot and fist marks.

"You sure about that?"

Brian glared at him, but it faded as he stepped up and over and nearly slipped. Dom swore and caught him. "Irish stubborn?" he asked.

"Stupid stubborn," Brian breathed out when he had his breath again. "I'm good," he promised and Dom eased back. "Oh, man," he murmured and leaned into the water.

Dom left him when he was sure he wouldn't fall, grabbing up towels, fresh clothes and leaving them on the commode. "Yell, okay?" he said to the half open door. "Brian?"

"Yeah…yeah. Promise," Brian called back.

Outside the bathroom, Dom leaned against the wall and thumped his head against it lightly a couple of times. His eyes went to the phone, wondering if he dared, if it was really tapped or just a line Brian was feeding him.

He didn't want to believe it, that this, all this -- that he was being played again. That Brian was stringing him along. If he was and the two assholes across the street were in on it, the cops were playing with a far dirtier playbook that Dom expected. And that made no sense. That they'd want him, yeah, but nobody but his team had gotten hurt. "No truckers were injured in the making of this heist," he muttered to himself. Or no more than a few bruises, a couple of cuts, a headache from the tranq dart. Vince was the one who usually came out looking like he'd gone ten rounds and he hardly seemed to notice: hyped up on adrenaline and the rush of it all. Excited and horny -- to the extent that Mia would make herself scarce after a job. Not that Vince was likely to try anything, but Mia didn't like the whole scene and if Vince was going to hit on one of the girls that always seemed to be hanging around the house, she'd head to the movies or the library.

She hated all of it. So much so that Dom had stopped talking about it to her after the second job. He didn't remember Mia having that kind of a temper -- one that reminded him of their mother. Memories that Mia didn't really share because she'd been too young when their mother died; just a kid. But before then, Dom could remember the sound of dishes crashing, of his father pleading, placating, and later when his father had calmed her down over whatever it was, they'd have dinner that she didn't cook. Go out and actually do the restaurant thing, or get take out. Other than birthdays and anniversaries, when the Toretto family ate out, it was always because Dad was making up to Momma.

Letty was kind of like that. He'd never really seen it with Mia until all this started. Oh, his baby sister had a mouth on her, no question. And she could be mean -- but usually it was to make a point, not just to be that way. But Letty, Letty took nothing off nobody. Not Dom, not Leon or Vince. Jesse, she treated like a little brother. They all did. Had.

Brian…Letty had reacted to Brian differently. She hadn't begrudged his interest in Mia, but she'd been tepid at best. Not outright hostile like Vince, or vaguely suspicious like Leon. She'd never had to show her claws to Brian because Brian never flirted with her. Like he knew she was off limits, or like he wasn't interested at all. But with Dom, for no apparent reason, she'd gotten more possessive, more demanding. Restaking her claim when they'd expanded their posse by one.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Leon would take care of her. Like Vince with Mia, Leon had ever been just at the edges of Letty's perceptions and interests. Faithful, he looked after her with something slightly more than brotherly interest, but he never had and never would have challenged Dom for the right to be something more. Leon was content to have, most times. Dom and Letty, both of them, owning was more accurate. Exclusive rights, no bullshit, put down any opposition possession.

Except not. The unspoken rule was you don't piss on your own stuff. Not your people, not their feelings, their worries, their objections. Not when it mattered.

Dom wasn't sure if he could actually distinguish when it mattered any longer.

He tilted his head toward the bathroom when he heard the water shut off, the scrape of skin against fiberglass and the tinny rasp of the shower door in its tracks. He only had to roll a little further to look in, to watch Brian reach for a towel to wipe his face, eyeing the rim of the bathtub like it was Mount Everest instead of a two foot rise of plastic.

He was still hunched over, looking like a drowned rat, hair plastered to his skull, the heat of the shower had brought up the bruises in a whole new Technicolor spectrum.

Dom couldn't stop his gaze from flickering down, eyes narrowed. Swelling, yes, and redness and while he was no expert, and certainly no doctor, it didn't look like Brian's nuts were dangerously swollen or had that overripe plum look of a testicle ready to rupture. It didn't really make him feel any better to know that, to have seen that kind of damage before. Like so many things in his two years at Lompoc, some doors were better left closed and locked tight. But the threat of being sent back had opened up some he'd obviously not secured as well. Racing. Brian. Cops. Lompoc. Hell. They were all tangled so tightly together he was getting dizzy trying to keep them separate.

His eyes flicked upward when Brian finally managed to lift a foot up to step out of the tub. Brian froze, eyes closing tightly as the muscles of his groin pulled.

Ouch. Dom thought and didn't wait for Brian to yell, or to ask. Brian didn't even feign annoyance at grabbing for Dom's hand and arm to make it the rest of the way out.

"I could just stay here," he suggested, half in, half out, the towel slipping from his fingers in lieu of the support Dom offered. "Not moving…it's good."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that. Ever," Dom said. "You may be good here, Bri, but me…I got better things to do than stand in your bathroom, holding your hand."

"Oh, yeah?" Brian's grip tightened on his hand, muscles tensing. He was gonna move. "My closets could use a good cleaning."

That was it and Brian leaned forward and shifted his weight, finishing his climb out of the tub and shifting his grip from the shower door to the sink counter. "Fuck…fuck…fuck," he said, barely a whisper and Dom shifted his own grip as Brian bent over further.

"Deep breaths, come on…" Dom said. The water made his skin slick, Dom having to spread his fingers across his waist and dig in harder than he actually wanted to, but if he was hurting Brian, it was completely masked by Brian's attention elsewhere.

It did pass after a couple of minutes and Brian carefully straightened up a bit, steady enough that Dom felt him secure enough to retrieve the towel and hand it to him. Brian's murmured "thanks" was subdued, like he couldn't quite believe he was still breathing.

He was starting to feel like a mother. Dom bent down to get Brian's jeans and shoes, dumping them in a pile outside the bathroom while Brian dried off.

"Dom…second drawer on the left. Shorts, please," Brian said and Dom glanced at him and at the clothes he'd left on the commode -- jeans and a t-shirt. Brian followed his gaze and shook his head. "I'm not putting on anything tighter than gym shorts. If I had a dress, I'd wear it," he said, serious as all shit but it made Dom smile, almost made him want to laugh.

"All right…Good thing I dropped by," he said and heard Brian chuckle.

"Yeah…yeah...I'd probably still be lying on the porch."

The shorts were easy to find, dark blue, and Dom stared for a long moment at the LAPD logo on one leg before walking back. "They really think you're dirty?"

Brian took them and eased himself down on the commode to get them on. It was like watching a slow motion movie.

"Some of them." Brian answered slowly, head down. "More to it…before this…you. I was a beat cop, Dom. Driving a car. Chasing down street racers, ticketing people for speeding," he said with a half smile. "Getting pulled after just a couple of years for something like this, it didn't sit well, with a lot of people. Fucking it up…some thought I was after the money. Others just thought I was too stupid to be doing it anyway."

"So what was it?" Dom asked, arms folded across his chest. "Wasn't the money. I know you didn't see any of it. And stupid…that may be open for debate in some places but…not exactly my first impression."

"Gee, thanks," Brian said, carefully wiping the towel through his hair, then dropping it on his lap. "I don't know...you. It's not like I don't know between legal and illegal, right and wrong, and you -- it was both illegal and wrong," he said, sounding a little pissed off about it. "Black and white, clear as mud…if you'd been an asshole like Tran -- this would have been a no brainer."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"Now, you are being an asshole."

Dom grinned at him. "You want a beer?"

"Do I have to move?" Brian asked and looked half-serious. He was going to have a shiner, his upper lip was swelling and his chest looked like someone had used the rough end of a meat mallet on it.

"Well, seeing as I have to piss…"

"Bathtub's free," Brian advised him, but his hand reached for the counter. Dom grinned at him again and headed for the kitchen.

The Coronas were nearly gone and Dom eyed the Millers with a skeptical eye, but they were cold, the alcohol content would be about the same. Something stronger would be welcome. Dom took a second to glance out the window and froze. There was a second car there and even as he watched, it pulled past the CV and up behind Brian's Mustang. A bearded, bespectacled man in a brown suit got out, but the suit did nothing to hide the holstered gun under his shoulder.

"Brian…" he kept his voice low, backing up and almost ran into him, Brian's fingers splaying across his back to keep from staggering. "I think you are about to have company."

Brian leaned past him, his chin almost on Dom's shoulder, then moved, gripping Dom's shoulder. "Bedroom. Stay there."

"Are they coming back for seconds?" Dom asked. Not a second time -- no matter what else he felt, he wasn't letting Brian take on more pissed off members of the brotherhood alone.

"No…no. It's…Tanner. My sergeant. Just go, Dom," he said, cool, flat-toned. He moved past Dom but had to grab for the wall of the hallway.

The knock on the door sounded like a gunshot and Dom flinched, but eased past the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm coming," Brian called out, making his way unsteadily across the open expanse of the living room.

Dom ducked back in the bedroom. He eyed the closet briefly, only to dismiss it. If there was trouble he didn't actually want to be more cornered than he already was. He leaned against the wall and listened, closing his eyes.

The door opened and there was dead silence for a moment.

"Jesus, Brian, what happened to you?"

Somehow, the voice didn't really seem to match the man. There was some kind of east coast twang to it, softer and mellower.

"Allston and Cruz got bored," Brian said.

"Allston and--sons of bitches. Press charges."

"Won't stick." Dom could almost see Brian shrugging, trying to. "No witnesses."

Bullshit, Dom thought. Then, oh yeah, he was a great witness.

"I'll pull them off."

"I'd appreciate getting my window fixed, too. What do you want, Sarge?"

"Can I come in?"

Nothing was said, but Dom heard the door close. More glass tinkling against the floor, the porch.

"You saw Mia Toretto today."

"Yeah, she sends her regards."

"Brian, I am not your enemy."

"I'm running a little low on friends, Sarge. I'd like to try and keep the ones I have."

"Like Mia."

"No…but…I wanted to make sure she didn't need anything. She's running a little low on friends too, you know? And no, she didn't tell me anything. She wouldn't. Look, Sarge, she's a dead end. So am I."

"Her I understand…you? Not so much. He's gone, you know. Long gone."

"If he's got any brains at all, yeah."

"He's bad news, Brian. He'll show up again. And next time, somebody might die."

"In case you missed the bulletin, Sarge, somebody did. And it wasn't Toretto that pulled the trigger."

Jesus, Brian sounded angry. It shouldn't have surprised Dom, but it did.

"It was self defense, Brian. No one's going to charge you for Johnny Tran."

"I'm not talking about, Johnny. Mia's gonna have to deal with Jesse. She's all the family he's got. His father's in prison and nobody other than Dom and Mia ever gave a damn about him. That's all I wanted, Sarge, just to see if I could do anything. Anything else?"

"What did she say?"

"That she'd think about it. Are we done?"

There was silence for a long time before Dom heard the door again. "Brian," Tanner's voice again, sounding less friendly, more professional. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No."

"Anything I can do? I feel like I owe you something."

"You don't. You gave me a chance and I blew it. I'm not who you thought I was."

"Maybe not. I still think you could be what you said you wanted to be -- it would be hard, though."

"I made my choice. Just remind Allston and Cruz that I'm a civilian now."

The dead silence that followed made the air thick and Dom found himself tensing up again until Tanner spoke. Brusque, flat.

"I'll pull them. You're on your own with the window. There will be paperwork. Don't expect much severance. Take care of yourself, Brian."

The door closed and this time no glass fell. Dom waited and waited some more, straining to hear the sound of an engine. He did after awhile, and a second. Cautiously he made his way back, eyes on the window. The Crown Victoria was gone, the street in front of the house contained only Brian's Mustang.

Brian himself was still sitting on the edge of one of the chairs, head down, staring at the floor. Dom moved toward him, squatted, and Brian finally looked up. His expression was non-existent, eyes too bright, face too pale. He licked at his lips then glanced away. "You offered me a beer."

Without a word, Dom offered up the bottle still in his hand and Brian took it, staring at it before finally lifting it to his lips.

Dom got up to get another for himself before he could convince himself that the moisture on Brian's face was something other than sweat.

###   
Part Five:

At some point he moved. He didn't really remember doing it. He remembered Dom taking the empty from his hand. He remembered pain on standing up again and he thought he remembered swearing at Dom for making him move. One hot, bright spot in an otherwise pretty colorless bit of fog.

Dom got him back on the bed, brought him water that Brian drank even though the thought registered that it had to come out again. He could go forever without wanting to feel that kind of pain again. He'd die without water, liquid, but at the time, he pretty much felt like he might die from the pain.

Then it was all gone: the pain, the blankness, the suddenly hollow echo of what had been his life. It never really had time to sink in. Dom had interrupted the inevitable fall. Brian wasn't sure if he wanted to thank him or hit him again.

It occurred to him that there was no real reason for Dom to stick around now. Whatever business he had, maybe they'd settled it when Brian wasn't looking. Maybe Dom had forgiven him. Maybe all of it had been for nothing after all.

That was two, maybe three, people he'd betrayed. Dom, Mia…Tanner.

He'd never been exactly sure why Tanner had taken him on. From the start, from his first assignment out of the academy, Detective Sergeant Nick Tanner had taken to him, had time for Brian's questions, pulled him in when they needed patrol cops for back up. Murmurs around the precinct locker room hadn't taken long to start. Favoritism was frowned upon at the lower ranks.

Brian ignored most of it, ignored the casual jibes, the increase in catcalls and whistles. The speculation was that they'd put him on vice because he was so pretty the pimps would be drooling all over him. Snide comments became so much background noise every time Tanner stopped by, about the detective wanting to get into more than Brian's files.

If Tanner felt that way, he'd given no overt signs to Brian. He was divorced, had a grown kid somewhere, lived alone -- all but lived at the precinct. What people could get away with saying to Brian, they'd never say to Tanner, because the man was good -- he had a rep, he had an arrest record that made the brass shine, and he wasn't -- like most of the detectives were -- an asshole.

He'd hunted Brian down long before actually tapping him for this case; questions about racing, about cars, about what it would take to pull off this kind of hijacking. When the time came, he'd put his reputation, if not his job, on the line to get Brian tapped for it. Nobody else, Tanner had told his chief and Bilkins, we got nobody else that can pull the moves, that can get into this scene as fast as you want.

He'd been mostly right. Brian had blown into town with a spiced up car and Arizona plates. Harry had been ready to take him on and he'd spent a week just getting to know the players as they cruised in and out of The Racer's Edge. Hector was the chatty one. Dom had more often sent Leon or Letty or Vince than come in himself. Actually coming by the market for lunch had been more accident than plan, really. The tuna was cheap and bad, but Mia had seemed genuinely amused when he told her it was great. He liked seeing her smile. When it didn't given him food poisoning, he ordered it just for that smile.

Talking to Mia was easy too. He'd ignored Dom for the most part, when he was there, but always knew when he was being watched. Obviously, Dom's reputed bad temper didn't truly extend to everyone, even when they were chatting up his sister. They got used to seeing him. By the time he'd actually gotten Hector to drop a clue about the next street rally, he wasn't entirely a stranger.

Tanner had warned him how easy it was to blur the lines, but Brian only found the easy. The blur…well, it had definitely been that.

But easy was like the curse that seemed to follow Brian everywhere. Nothing stuck to easy. That had been his father's take. "You've had it too easy. That's why you get in trouble. Why you'll never have anything. Too easy for you."

Yeah, dad. This has been really easy, all the way.

Maybe it was true. Friends of his, the ones he had left, swore shit wouldn't stick to him. He'd believed them for awhile. Too fast, too good looking, too lucky, too stubborn. Two years in juvenile detention had pretty much disproved that little bit of urban legend.

He could hear Dom in the kitchen. The shadows had shifted again, leaving the room dark even beyond the blinds. Moving wasn't so much something he wanted to do as he had to do. In relative terms of pain versus agony, pissing wasn't so bad this time, but his mouth tasted sour again, metallic and bitter, where he'd bitten himself hard enough to draw blood. Listerine was not his friend and he almost swore at the sting. He suspected that there was nothing he could do: taste, touch, or move, that wasn't going to hurt.

Still, he moved carefully, as quietly as he could. He didn't want Dom back here. Not yet. Even knowing that he'd probably split when it got dark enough. He hadn't known Dom had such a mothering instinct in him. Oh, it was gruff, no cuddles and kisses, and maybe he shouldn't be surprised. He'd taken care of Mia all right, taken on Jesse…but still, for just a few minutes, Brian needed to be on his own. He needed to get used to it again.

Well, no one could accuse him of being pretty right now. There was some satisfaction in looking as bad as he felt, but it was still a little startling, even to him.

Getting a shirt on was a whole new lesson in humility and he still felt a certain antipathy toward his jeans. The shorts would do and after a few minutes of serious concentration on his breathing, he made his way back out into the world -- small as it was at the moment.

Dom had the sling back on, and he'd changed into the sweats and t-shirt Brian had picked up. The sweats fit, the t-shirt, well XL was as high as they went at the CVS. Black on black and it made Dom look like something not quite of this world. The cut on his scalp looked less like some kind of growth and more like a cut and he'd shaved, something Brian had not even thought to attempt.

Weirder still, there were things cooking on his stove.

"You went to the store?" It was the first thing out of Brian's mouth.

Dom was staring at him, a smile twitching his lips.

"No. This…" he gave the larger of the two saucepans a stir. "Is pasta. Which I found in the freezer. Dried pasta."

Brian eased down on the stool, although it was more like easing against it and praying it wouldn't scoot out from under him. "I have no idea how that got there."

"How do you feel?" Dom asked and reached into the refrigerator to pull out a beer, then dumped out some ibuprofen on the counter.

"Scary as it sounds, since I still feel like ground beef, better," Brian said and took both offerings. "What's in the other pot?"

"Vegetable soup and canned chicken. I don't want to know how long they've been in your cabinet."

"We could have ordered delivery."

Dom considered it. "If they've been in your cabinet for more than a year, pick up the phone."

Brian ducked his head and shook it. "Naw…I've only been here about eight months. Still…is that going to be worth eating?"

"As opposed to those frozen burrito things? Battery acid would be better eating."

Brian sipped at his beer, his mood vastly improved. It lasted only a few minutes though. "I can…take a drive after dark. Just in case. You could get out then and I'll call Mia."

Dom eyed him then reached up into a cabinet to pull down bowls. "Hector's coming for the car."

Brian stared at him uncomprehendingly for a minute. "The…you gave it to him?"

Dom shrugged. "It's neon and…maybe it's not hot, but it's the next best thing to it." The pasta was drained and split up before Dom ladled out his "sauce". Weird or not, it smelled pretty good and Brian's stomach rumbled.

"He bringing you another one?"

Shaking his head, Dom moved the bowls and utensils closer and settled onto the other stool. He pulled the sling off with a certain amount of caution, but no expression of pain flashed across his face. Not much was on his face at all. "So, you still owe me a 10 second car."

"Oh…oh, no. You shit," Brian said and almost lurched up. Dom's hand came down on his arm and he leaned in. "The Mustang's all I've got."

"That piece of road trash is no more a 10 second car than the Toyota was when you first brought it to me. You're good for it," Dom said and let him go.

Brian didn't know what to say -- or do. Dom, however, dug his fork into the food and chewed. "Not bad. Boring but not bad."

"Dom…"

"I said I had unfinished business. We do. I don't like owing people. You owe me a car. I owe you…a life."

"Bullshit," Brian said softly. "It's done…just. Take it, Dom. The car. Get out, get gone…take Mia with you."

Dom methodically ate another couple of mouthfuls, while Brian stared. Then he set down his fork and turned. "That really what you want? Because I don't think it is…so, you tell me, straight up, Brian. I asked you once, this is the last shot. Why'd you do it? What do you want?"

Brian thought his heart might stop. He thought he might throw up. This was -- Jesus this was fucked up, because he was pretty sure Dom didn't have a clue. The first answer that came to his mind hung there, then sank like a stone. He wanted Dom to go. He wanted him safe, out of it…not running, because Dom didn't run. Not from his failures, not from his responsibilities, not from his people.

But Brian wasn't any of those. And if Dom thought he owed Brian something…well there were some debts that should never be called up. Ever.

He took a breath, weighed his options, wondered if Dominic would kill him or just hurt him really, really bad. "You remember you said Vince had a sense about some things, about me?"

Dom looked confused, the dead-serious expression breaking up into a whole lot of little expressions that ripped certainty right off his face. "Yeah…but…"

"He was right on two counts," Brian said and moved fast enough to actually feel pain. Just a warm-up, he thought briefly before his mouth closed over Dom's. Lips, tongue, teeth, taste. Warm, moist, full lips, salt and malt and spice from the soup. Sweat and fear and surprise -- or not.

Because Brian honestly couldn't say he was surprised when he was shoved backward, when the stool teetered and he had to grab for the counter, when the stool nearly knocked his legs from under him before Dom could actually take the swing Brian knew was coming.

It didn't though. Not a shot like Brian had clipped Dom with, but the hand that shoved him, while flat palmed, had enough force and momentum behind it to upset Brian's feeble grip on balance. He went down with a guttural cry that didn't sound like him. Hitting the floor jarred his spine, his back, parts of him that reminded him that there really was only so much physical trauma a body could take.

Then Dom was standing over him, teeth bared, face flushed, tensed and shaking and Brian found himself letting his gaze slide down to the heavy casing of Dom's boots. Oh, man, this was gonna hurt like hell. He closed his eyes and waited.

Movement against his thigh made him flinch but no blow came, no kick. Only air, a waft of it as Dom stepped over him and past him, heading for the door. Brian let his head fall back against the carpet, seeing it all from an upside down, dizzying point of view. Dom's back, the door, the street, the door again.

He rolled to his side and watched soup and pasta drip down off the counter onto the floor, warm spatters hitting his face.

Not so subtle, but it worked. Dom was gone.

That had been really, really easy. Just like they always said.

 

(continued)


	2. Chapter 6-9

# Unfinished Business

  
**By Maygra**  


## Parts 6 - 9

###  Part Six:

What was that? The answer didn't immediately spring to mind, not in any way that made sense, but it brought Dom up short about ten feet past Brian's car. He stared at the sidewalk like it was the yellow brick road: another hundred feet, turn, a couple of blocks, turn again, down the side street and back in beyond the first three houses and the Supra should still be waiting for him. Hector wouldn't try for it until long after people had gotten home from work and settled in. Dom didn't need to wait that long. He had the keys…well, actually, no. The keys were inside, but that wasn't really an issue. For that matter, the Mustang was facing a low downgrade and if he couldn't clutch-start a fucking Ford, he didn't deserve anything better than an automatic tranny and anti-lock brakes.

What the hell was that? Brian wanted what? To kiss him? To get in his pants? What the fuck was that about?

He stared back at the house, eyes narrowed and found his fists clenched. That was not an answer. Dom didn't know what it was, but it was not the answer he was looking for. Because this…this. What did Brian-fucking-O'Conner kissing him have to do with anything at all?

A joke, maybe, except Brian hadn't been laughing and neither was Dom. And what was the crap about Vince and his being a cop and…oh. Oh. Oh no. Oh, fucking hell no. No fucking way. This was like a really cheesy bad soap opera on Telemundo, the ones Letty and Mia both seemed to watch with demented laughter and snide speculation. And didn't the LAPD, like, not exactly have a great rep at tolerating faggots in their ranks despite all their Equal Opportunity bullshit?

This was the guy who had been doing his sister, for God's sake.

He turned around and stalked back only to stop again, not sure what he was doing. That he had anything to say, anything to add to this surreal conversation that had gone from words to something else, was in doubt. Maybe action suited action, but shit. Hell, no. He was missing something here.

Parking his butt on the hood of the Mustang, he stared at the house, at the door, wondering if Brian would come after him. Fucking cop. Playing games, shifting the field, the rules. He wanted Dom gone, it could happen. Dom could make it happen so fast it would make Brian's head spin. He wanted to play a new game, Dom could make that happen too. He knew those rules but maybe not written in the same language Mr. Arizona understood.

He didn't move though. Not yet, no reason. Not yet.

No reason. And no cars were roaring down on him. No cops. He glanced around. Except for the early evening traffic on the street, nothing much was happening. People were getting home from work, he could hear voices, music, kids maybe. Somebody's dog was barking. There was plenty of noise but no sirens, no squealing tires. Tanner apparently had not only pulled the pair of fuckwads who'd beaten the shit out of Brian out, he'd pulled the surveillance entirely. Had he pulled the tap as well? If there had ever been one. And really, why would they tap Brian's phone to begin with?

Because they thought he was dirty, that he'd try to hook up with Dom. Surprise. Because they thought he'd turned…

He had turned. Turned and given Dom his keys, given him refuge.

What the hell did Brian want from him? Did he really want to know?

Apparently so. The Mustang barely shifted when he got up and no one was paying him any attention at all. He was a free man. Sort of.

The streetlights were picking up the edges of the broken glass in the window and shards crunched under his feet. Inside was nothing but more light from the kitchen, a stool on the carpet, soup and pasta on the counter and the floor. No Brian though. No Brian lying on the floor looking like a kicked puppy. Not so eager any more, not so cocky. Or sure, or aggravating, or stoic or…the smell of burning hit Dom and he glanced at the stove and swore, stepping past the mess on the linoleum to turn off the stove. Nothing smelled quite as bad as burned pasta.

A dozen steps took him through the living room, the back door still closed. The hallway and bedroom were beyond, still dark. Mostly. There was light enough to see the shadow on the floor to catch the gleam of light reflected in Brian's eyes when he looked up. Enough light to see him put his hand back against the wall and push himself upward, awkwardly and stiffly.

Dom moved into the hallway but Brian didn't retreat, just stood there, head up. Half of him almost indistinguishable from the shadows beyond, the other half looked ghostly and strange from the broken mix of light and shadow coming from the kitchen. There was barely room for both of them when Dom stood in front of him, able to see better now. Brian had his game face on: cool, distant.

"Forget something?" Brian asked when the silence went on too long. Not too long for Dom, but Brian…Brian always had something to say.

Dom put his back to the wall and folded his arms. His shoulder protested and he did it anyway. The ache was back, the reminder. One long spiraling twist of thought and imagery that ended up with the Charger a perfect metaphor for his life. A wreck, out of control, but he was still standing.

Better his arms crossed than clenched up in fists that wanted to pound that oh, too pretty face into the drywall. Not so pretty now, though. Brian looked kind of like a lopsided raccoon. Half of him was bruised and swollen. From the other half, a blue eye regarded him unflinchingly and the swelling on his upper lip made him look like he was sneering. Maybe he was, smart ass, smug, too cocky bastard.

"When I was inside…" Dom said, quietly, the words thick. Opening that door was in no way a pleasant operation: it was spring hinged, threatened to take a piece out of him if he couldn't wrestle it into submission. "They had this …thing…they did to the new guys…you know, arrange the pecking order, the hierarchy…who ranks who," he said slowly. "Everybody's a dog in there. Big dogs, little dogs…yappy dogs. Attack dogs…Pack order, pack rules. You know what I'm talking about, Bri?"

Brian swallowed and lifted his chin. "More than you probably think," he said and Dom took that in. Yeah, maybe so.

"Sometimes, that thing…it's like a dog fight. Pit bulls...betting. Making a place for yourself, proving your rank. If you're not at the top, you're somewhere down on the bottom. Some guys liked it down there." He leaned in toward Brian, wanting to make sure there was no mistaking his meaning. "I was never one of them." Brian gave him a small nod. Good. He understood. "They got ranks at the bottom too, you know?" Dom went on, proud of the casual tone of his voice. "Top of those dogs were a little smarter or had something to offer and sometimes…you know, the little dogs find a big dog to like, look out for them."

"Like Vince and Leon and Jesse?" Brian asked.

Dom's right hand shot out and slammed into the wall next to Brian's head. Brian flinched, but his gaze didn't drop, even when Dom leaned in and put his lips close to Brian's ear. "No…Brian. Because Vince and Leon and Jesse, they never had to fight for any position. They just are. Inside, rank is something you have to earn over and over and over again. Because there's always a new dog coming to the fight. And what I found out is...that among the really big dogs, you have to have a bitch, rather than be one, because that's how dogs are. I never took you as the bitch kind, but that's it, right? You want to be my bitch, Brian? That's why you did all this? Saved Vince, saved me…" His tongue came out and licked up lightly along Brian's jaw. He tasted sweat, the rough rasp of beard, felt Brian jerk his head fractionally away.

And this was familiar, maybe too much so, making something inside Dom twist and recoil and sour his stomach, but in a dog fight, the first dog to show fear, to bare its throat, loses. Loses big. Dom had never lost this kind of fight.

He pressed in, crowding Brian in the small space, moving his hand so that his wrist pressed to Brian's cheek and shifted his mouth. He could feel Brian's breath on his lips: short, sharp, shallow pants. He pressed more firmly, using chest and hips, his greater weight, to pin Brian in place, playing Brian's weakness, even though he wasn't trying to escape. Dom felt Brian shudder but he held his ground, didn't try to jerk away or push Dom back.

Then he pressed his mouth to Brian's harshly, brutally. His fingers twisted around to tangle in the blond curls, felt their dampness still, the texture. He forced Brian's lips apart and felt the mash of his teeth against Brian's lips. His tongue filled Brian's mouth and he ground their mouths together, forcing his way in deeper. Brian gave a strangled sound and twisted, one hand worming between them, against Dom's chest to push back, force them apart as his head twisted away.

Dom gripped his jaw and forced Brian's head back and leaned in hard, pressing Brian to the wall, letting his teeth rake across Brian's jaw, pressing his thigh between Brian's legs.

It took a second for the wet, choked-off curse to register, to realize he was holding Brian up more than pressing him back. Brian's fingers dug into his shirt, chest heaving, head down and eyes closed. Dom eased back and felt Brian start to slide.

The urge to jump back was strong, the realization that if he did, Brian would fall following between one breath and the next. Maybe he should let him.

His brain shifted gears, anger and shock bleeding away as he moved his hand to cup the back of Brian's neck. "Is that what you want, Bri?" Dom demanded but his grip was gentler.

"We…we're not in Lompoc," Brian managed to gasp out and let his head fall back. Saliva and something darker made his lips wet, his chin. "And I'm not anybody's bitch," he said on a harsh whisper. His eyes were wide, bright and accusing, hard. "Get the hell off me, Toretto."

Dom stared at him for a long moment, seeing the defiance there, anger too, and something else, something that dulled Brian's gaze and put a ragged edge on his words. He gave a sharp nod and stepped back only to have to come back in quickly when Brian did, indeed, start a slow descent to the floor.

Dom couldn't stop it and he did try, the attempt wrenching a curse and a grunt from him. You can lift me, his arm seemed to sneer, but I'm not lifting shit. In the end he had to go down with Brian or drop him entirely.

Where his arm pressed against Brian's skin, if felt hot, damp, but Brian was shaking, shivering like he was cold. When he had slid about as far as he could without melting into the floor, Dom backed off a little. He dropped a knee to the carpet and steadied himself. He could be concerned and still pissed off. In fact, it seemed the more worried he got about anything or anyone, the angrier he got. "What was that, Brian? Not what you had in mind? Are you fucking with me deliberately, or can you just not help yourself?"

"You asked. I told…showed you. Okay?"

"Showed me what? That you're what, queer? Queer for me? Because my sister didn't think so. You think this is like some really bad after school special? This is bullshit…"

"Then you should go. I never wanted you to owe me anything. That was you, Dom. When I walked away, I thought we were done."

Maybe. Maybe Brian really had closed this book, moved on. Had tried to or been willing to. Dom didn't let go so easy. But now he was really starting to wonder why.

"That's the way it works, right?" Brian said, his voice no more steady than the rest of him. "I lied to you, betrayed you, then I saved your life or Vince's or let you walk. Pick one and call it even. Grab your ride and go. Swap it for something else. Give it to Hector. It's yours, do what you want, just get the fuck out and quit messing up my life!" Brian said and the last was snapped out, Brian's voice straining, even while he was slipping down, no longer sitting really, kind of canted sideways on the wall, arms wrapped around himself like he could hold it together that way.

Dom sat back. Well, that was pretty clear. "You could have just said that."

"Oh…oh…" Brian made a strangled sound and Dom leaned in again, wondering if he was choking or going to hurl. It took a moment for him to realize Brian was laughing. Miserable, pissed off, obviously in pain -- more pain thanks to Dom -- and he was laughing.

It trailed off after a moment and Dom relaxed a little, rubbed the top of his head, stopping when he found the cut still tender. He tried to stretch out his legs and found he couldn't. "Why, Brian?" he asked, one more time. Somewhere in everything Brian was saying, and maybe in the things he wasn't saying, there was truth.

"Jeez, Dom…don't you ever give up?" It took some real effort for Brian to put one hand down and push himself more upright again.

"Nope. Are you…are you a faggot?"

"Half faggot."

Dom rolled his eyes and waited. Brian shook his head. "Sleeping with Mia was no strain, Dom. I like women just fine. I like Mia a lot. I just like men…a little more. But…not exactly a trait for career advancement, y'know?"

"And you…you thought what? Kissing me was gonna somehow…explain something?"

"No…No, I pretty much expected you to do what you did. If anything, you were a lot more restrained than I expected."

"So you didn't think I was..." Dom couldn't even say it, which was weird. Not out here, not beyond the alternate universe that lived only within the concrete and razor wire of Lompoc. "So because of that, you thought…"

"No. Christ, Dom," Brian said. "My timing sucked, my motivations less than pure, but it had crossed my mind before."

"What?"

"That I might like kissing you…or…"

"Or what?" It was like a pendulum swing that Dom was trying to catch, some kind of guide that would say, Here, this is what it is and this is how you should feel. Anything would be an improvement because his head was starting to hurt. "You were trying to get in my pants."

That set Brian off again, which made him cough which made him double over until Dom figured out that curled up on the floor was probably not the best place for Brian or himself. "Come on…up. Up, Brian," Dom said and with some effort and not a few stumbles, curses, and one pretty high-pitched squeak from Brian, they were on their feet. Dom turned them toward the bedroom, and had a moment's hesitation before propelling Brian forward again. Whatever else was going on, and he thought he was getting a better handle on it, Brian wasn't exactly in any condition to actually force himself on Dom.

Brian wasn't actually in much condition to stay conscious, Dom realized when he finally got him to the bed and Brian just collapsed. Not like before, just after the beating, when the whole idea of not moving probably was the plan. This was more like his body was well past unconsciousness but his brain and his eyes were still functioning -- and his mouth. Dom wasn't sure dying would actually keep Brian from having the last word.

The bedside lamp made them both flinch and Dom blinked, to let his eyes adjust. Brian only stared upward until his eyes watered. It should have been physically impossible for someone to look both pale and flushed but there it was and Dom's initial anger burned out enough for him to be annoyed at having to play nursemaid again. But he did it, getting a wet washcloth from the bathroom and more water. He tried to get Brian to drink but his patient was both stubborn and mouthy.

"I swear, Dom. I'll puke it right back up on you," he warned. "I'm fine…now that we have this settled, would you please go?"

Setting the glass aside, Dom sat on the edge of the bed, which dipped the mattress dangerously low. He had to lean over Brian to keep him from falling off. "We haven't settled shit. I swear, Brian, you think you're making sense, but, man…I gotta tell you, you aren't. And I am not this stupid. So you don't want in my pants?"

He said it with the sole intention of seeing Brian's reaction. If Brian got pissed, they were a long way off from understanding each other at all. If he laughed, smiled…closer maybe.

Brian let out an exasperated sigh and Dom wasn't quite sure where to place that, but he waited, and Brian glared and thought maybe he could out-wait Dom. It wasn't going to happen.

"Dom…why'd you come back for Jesse?" he asked finally.

Jesse…that pang was sharp and bitter and Dom swallowed it, speaking slowly. "Because I had to. I knew Johnny wouldn't take that in stride. I could have made it right with him, maybe, if I could get to Jesse. You know, Jesse, Brian. He freaked, flaked…lost it. I had to make it right."

"Yeah...I know…but why, Dom?. Jesse, Vince…Leon. They are all yours, Dom. You take care of them, like they are family."

"They are family. It's what it is, Brian…"

"You love them."

"Well, yeah. Even if they are assholes sometimes. What, that's a surprise to you? Like I couldn't say it? I'm Italian, Brian. We love everybody."

"I get that. You know, the Irish are like that too."

"So, I've heard. And how far from Ireland are you, Brian O'Conner?"

Brian grinned, showing his teeth. "About six generations. But…" He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "You chose them, Dom. Family. You'd do anything for them. You nearly got yourself killed twice because of that yesterday--"

Yesterday. Jesus, had it really been yesterday?

"-- and I can't even guess how many times before that you've risked anything, everything, taking care of them," Brian was saying. "You chose. There's nothing halves with you, Toretto. Well, I chose too. Probably from the start, but I didn't know it until race wars, until I knew…"

Brian stopped, looking like he was in pain but Dom didn't know if it was physical or something else. "Until when, Brian?"

"Until I knew there was no way I wasn't going to lose you. One way or another: the cops, the job, you hitting the pavement at mach 1. Some way. Somehow. I couldn't have it both ways. So I gave you the keys."

"Jesse...Leon, Vince. I love them like brothers."

"I know."

"And you…" Dom turned that over. They'd go to the mat for him, those three. He hadn't been kidding when he said Vince wouldn't talk. Them leaving Dom after the race bust hadn't been cowardly, just stupid. Maybe they took it for granted that Dom could handle himself. Mostly, they'd be right. "You…you did this 'cause…you love me like a brother…" Dom said, unwilling to edge any further than that.

"No," Brian said quietly, plainly, but not like it bothered him. "Dom, I don't even love you like I love your sister."

His sister? Mia -- who he wasn't in love with. Oh fuck. "Do not--"

"I should say it just to make you squirm," Brian said, the challenge was back in his eyes, and laughter too. He was laughing at him. Dom had just mauled him in the hallway and dumped his sorry ass on a bed and Brian was still laughing.

"And you expect, what?" Christ, maybe he was this stupid.

"Nothing. Dom…I don't expect shit from you," Brian said. "Okay, well, I expected to get my ass kicked and for you to get the hell out of Dodge. You're kind of predictable that way. But you are like a dog with a bone. Okay? Consider my ass kicked. I don't expect you to do anything. I don't want anything. I just want…I want you not in jail and I want you not dead. You've managed to accomplish both of those so I'm good. Really."

"Really."

"Yeah."

"You are just trying to make me crazy."

"You said it, Toretto. You are a little nuts. You don't need any help from me."

He needed help from someone, damn it. He sat back, then got up. "Your keys…"

Brian hesitated then closed his eyes. "On the counter. She slips in fourth. Be nice."

"Grocery store?" Dom asked.

"What?"

"I'm still hungry. I'm gonna be hungry in the morning. I need time to think."

"There's nothing to think about! They have grocery stores in Mexico, Toretto. The tank's full."

Dom reached over and pulled the bedspread up and over Brian. "Mia's coming here tomorrow. I'm not leaving until I talk to her…it still all works. And I am like a dog with a bone and this bone ain't buried yet, " he said and left him, a smile playing on his lips at the utter shock and possible dismay on Brian's face.

Predictable, huh? Fat chance, white boy.

###  Part Seven:

It was not possible for there to be anyone else on the whole fucking planet more stubborn than Dominic Toretto. Not possible. Brick walls had more give in them. Mountains had more flexibility.

The grocery store. Was he out of his fucking mind?

Shoving the blanket back, Brian did his best to get vertical. The only problem was, every time he thought he was sitting up straight, the room tilted. It was like being on one of those whirling basket things at a carnival. Tilt-a-Whirls. He'd always loved them.

Right now, though, he'd like to get off the ride.

He heard the door close and thought about calling out but…fuck it. He'd done everything he could.

Dropping back onto the bed really was more accident than design. It's not like he'd never been in a fight before. Not that this had exactly been a fight…really. He thought he'd been pretty lucky to sucker punch Dom, but Allston, Scott Allston had it down to a fine science. It kind of made Brian wish he had a glass jaw -- it probably would have been over a hell of lot faster.

He might be able to deal with the rest -- most of it -- except his stomach felt like maybe something had been punched open. So far, he hadn't puked but the feeling kept kind of hovering there. It might be better if he did, except the thought of heaving made him even more nauseated.

So did dwelling on it.

He could call somebody, maybe. A taxi, 911. Maybe he should have listened to Dom and Tanner and at least gone to the corner clinic. It was a sure bet they'd have better drugs than Darvocet and ibuprofen.

Or he could just lay here. That was actually not a bad idea. Passing out was a better one, but for whatever reason, that particular little survival technique seemed to have short circuited sometime after the toe of Manuel Cruz's boot had buried itself in his balls.

Having Dom's thigh there hadn't helped any. For a minute there, he thought he might get what he expected, that Dom would go ballistic on him, finish with his fists what he'd started with that shove. It would play to his profile, to what his files had claimed, what Tanner still believed, that Dominic Toretto was a dangerous, violent man with little regard for the law, other people's property or other people's lives.

On paper alone, Brian might have agreed. Even loving racing as much as he did, understanding the draw, the rush…the whole experience of it, there was no denying that some portion of the scene was going to be treading on some seriously dangerous criminal activity. Not just the racing, but the betting, the stealing, using kids as cover. Brian could still argue that street racing was a better use of time and energy than other things, but they all got tangled up together when you wanted to be the best, when you needed to impress people almost more than you needed to breathe.

He'd been there, done that. But still, he'd never lost the need for the rush. The love of the risk and the speed and the glory, however fleeting. It surprised no one that his highest marks in the academy had been in driving.

He'd expected Dom to be…well, full of himself. He had the cred, the rep, and the first time he'd ever seen him face to face, he'd been looking for the anger and the strength and yeah, a thug who was good with cars.

What he'd seen was a guy who had more muscle than he needed to drive a car, who dressed and talked like he was always looking for a fight, being pretty much taken down and run over by a woman half his size and obviously not afraid of him. She'd been nagging and ragging on him about something at the market, was obviously pissed off and was absolutely walking him backward with a poke of her finger. He'd surrendered before he ever saw Brian, and then he'd leaned over and kissed her forehead, given her a squeeze and five seconds after he was gone, Mia Toretto had a smug, indulgent smile on her face.

Okay, so maybe he was different around his sister, or women. But the people who came and went in the market, they didn't treat him like he was someone to be afraid of and he didn't treat them like they were anything less than friends and neighbors.

There was a temper there, no doubt, but it didn't seem any faster than Brian's own and it seemed to run its course with a lot of sound and fury, but little damage. Whatever had caused Dominic Toretto to nearly beat a man to death, it had taken some provocation. And not until Dom had taken him to see his pride and joy had Brian understood it. None of what Dom said was in his file, not in the trial notes. He had pleaded guilty.

Nothing Brian had said had convinced Tanner or anyone that Dom actually did have pretty good control on that temper.

There was more, of course, because as sure as Tanner had been of Dom's guilt, he still wasn't an idiot. Dom's prison record had shown something else, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that most of the guys in there would get hashed for fighting at some point. And in all the fights, in all the hours of solitary Dom had spent, never once did he do again what he'd done to the man who caused his father's death. He'd broken bones, noses, stood his ground. Brian had tried to point that out to Tanner only to be reminded that, in general, inmates weren't allowed access to wrenches.

There'd been more and Brian had talked to a few people at Lompoc -- guards mostly. They'd done just as much checking on the other suspects, and knew Johnny Tran was bad news long before he shot up Brian's car. Hector was an operator, no doubt. If there was a deal going down in East LA or further South, Hector knew about it. Two or three others, all smart enough, but the hijackings required more than just brains -- they required a real skill at driving and by and large, street racing wasn't exactly a team sport.

What he'd found out about Dominic Toretto had surprised him. Not so much in the never-in-a-million-years way, because inside prison was nothing like outside and only the penal system PR firms wanted the public to think otherwise. Surprised, not because Dom had found some way besides his own hand to relieve frustration and tension, but that he'd made…more or less permanent associations.

Even with that, it wasn't an angle Brian had given even two seconds of thought to using.

Mia had visited her brother at least once a month, and usually more often, for two years. Letty and the boys, not as often but fairly regularly. Sometimes together, sometimes separately, Vince more than the others. Brian didn't have to like Vince to admire his loyalty. Then again, Dom wasn't exactly someone you forgot easily.

Loyalty, or the ability to inspire it, didn't exactly give a man a free pass. Mafia dons could inspire loyalty, which didn't mean they wouldn't smile while putting a bullet in your brain, or not love their kids.

They hadn't been able to check too closely on Dom's home life without raising suspicions. Neighborhoods tended to be tight and closed and the Torettos had been in Echo Park for a lot of years. Vince, Letty, those kind of lifelong friendships weren't as familiar to Brian, mostly because Barstow had seemed too small for what he wanted, his own home life too confining, too constricting. Too…

Not anything like what Dom and Mia had known by any gauge he could test.

Dom might have been a different man while in prison, but as near as Brian could tell, when he'd gotten out, it hadn't taken long for him to slide back into his old life. Maybe he was even a little more controlled. Brian wasn't willing to lay any bets on the rehabilitative abilities of the federal penal system, but something had happened. Maybe only showing Dom that he had a lot to lose.

But it hadn't changed him that much. Setting aside the total criminal side of the hijackings, they'd been brilliantly planned, and the team had obviously practiced and practiced hard.

Brian could almost understand the allure. He'd been scared shitless racing alongside that truck, wondering if he could actually trade places without getting them both killed, not too sure even as he'd been jumping that he could actually help Vince at all. He didn't even like Vince.

But he loved Dom.

His insides froze up a bit at even admitting that to himself. He'd danced around the thought and feeling for awhile now, had sidestepped them with Dom even. But there it was. It didn't actually feel that great, like love was supposed to, because there was nothing at the end of that road for Brian but the pale comfort of admitting he could actually fall in love with someone.

It didn't matter what -- or who -- Dom might have done in prison. Social theorists and activists could argue the finer points all they wanted, but Dominic Toretto was no more queer than…well, anyone else, he supposed. Brian felt pretty out of place in that world too, for the most part, no matter that he'd actually explored it a little, on both sides of his badge. All in all his life would be easier if he could settle for what he liked just fine, which was women, instead of getting distracted or drawn toward what he liked better, but on some levels was a whole lot less satisfying.

Maybe it was his parents' bad marriage. Maybe it was simple defiance because his father would most likely take that last step and disown Brian entirely if he knew. Not that he ever would. Not that he cared enough to even ask anything the times Brian actually bit the bullet and called him.

And now Dom was confusing the hell out of him. It occurred to Brian in the hallway that maybe he'd been wrong after all. Maybe Dom really was capable of doing violence just to prove a point. Well, yeah, he was capable, but until that moment it had not occurred to Brian that Tanner might be more right than wrong.

His tongue tested the small hurt on the inside of his mouth. Well, if that was how Dom kissed, it was no wonder Letty's mouth always looked a little swollen.

He hadn't lied to Dom. Alive and safe, that was the best Brian could hope for, all he'd really let himself hope for. Anything else seemed hopelessly romantic and pointless. If he could actually hang on to some part of Dom's friendship, or God help him for setting his expectations high, Mia's, that would be a bonus.

Or he could lay here and feel sorry for himself, which all in all took a whole lot less energy or effort.

He wasn't in that great a position to be out of work. He had a couple of grand in the bank -- his salary hadn't improved in the last few months because that detective's badge hadn't been his to claim quite yet. He was paid up through the end of the month on the house, but after that, well, he'd been stretching his resources pretty thin to make the rent as it was. But he liked this house.

He could turn his skill back to cars and probably would. He might not have Jesse's imagination or even Dom's understanding of all things requiring internal combustion, but he could do an oil change, a tune up, and he liked working on cars. Private security, maybe. Bondsman -- he could do that too as long as they really didn't try to charge him with anything or secure a conviction.

If he had a car with some real muscle in it, he could race as well, but he didn't have that kind of capital to invest.

Cheerful thoughts all and Brian tried to sit up again. At this point falling on his face would be a vast improvement over thinking.

He didn't quite, but the room still had an unlikely tendency to somehow tilt when he was paying attention and somehow, the house seemed to have gotten exponentially bigger. He didn't remember the walk to the living room being quite this far.

The kitchen smelled and eyeing the glob on the floor, Brian decided that he'd probably slip in something if he tried it, but he was feeling a little trapped, the house smelled stale even with the new ventilation around his front door.

The back though…the door squeaked and groaned but it opened. Not exactly a country garden but Brian eased out onto the narrow slab that made up his "porch." He vaguely thought there may have been a garage on this side of the house at one point. It would explain the bare patches in the grass and the covered slab. All he had out there were a couple of plastic chairs and a couple of magazines that had been there awhile, their pages rippled and stuck together by moisture.

The plastic chair seemed a little flimsy but it held his weight, and the cooler evening air actually felt good. The view wasn't that bad either if you looked up a little, past the house tops to the mountains beyond. There was a hint of something in the air, but Brian always convinced himself it was ocean.

The street sounds lulled him, intermittent blasts of music…life went on. Brian's life may have suddenly turned into a disaster but elsewhere…not even a blip on the universal radar.

He recognized the sound of his own engine, smiling a little when Dom expertly skipped fourth entirely without over revving the engine. He didn't move though. Dom had gone for groceries, he could damn well carry them in himself.

He didn't feel nearly as spiteful as the thought actually indicated. If he tried, he had a sneaking suspicion Dom would leave him on the sidewalk when he fell.

From this side of the house, he couldn't see the car or the street. But he could hear Dom come in. Move around and when he twisted just a little he could see Dom reach down and put the fallen stool upright and saw him when he noticed the open door.

It still took a few minutes for Dom to come out and when he did, he had the sling back on. No doubt hauling groceries wasn't exactly approved physical therapy.

"Here," Dom said gruffly from beside him and Brian looked up to see Dom offering him, not a beer, but a sports drink. Clear, garish colored label, and already opened.

Drinking anything was still not high on Brian's list of priorities, but he sipped at it cautiously and realized he was thirsty. Dom, on the other hand, did have a beer and a bag from Carl's Jr.

"Found the grocery store?"

"Followed a soccer mom."

"What was she driving?"

Dom grunted. It could have been a chuckle, but it sounded like a grunt. "Honda Accord, 98. Her tires were low. You should eat something."

"Probably," Brian said but he didn't reach for the bag. If anything, the smell, when it penetrated through what breeze there was, still made him a little queasy.

Half a dozen things flitted through Brian's mind to say, but he held them all back. Dom seemed content to sit and not talk, looking more relaxed in the flimsy plastic chair than he had any time since he'd suddenly popped up in Brian's living room.

But he couldn't go forever in silence because it was making him tense. "What are you going to do?"

Dom's lips curled up and he finished his beer. "Talk to Mia. Grab some cash. Head to Mexico. Wanna come with me?"

It wasn't just his room that had tilted crazily, the whole world had suddenly shifted on its axis.

Trying to fight it hadn't worked so well, thus far, and Brian decided to just go with it. "Sure."

Dom's smile got a little broader. "Good. 'Cause I need your car."

###  Part Eight:

What the Mustang lacked in power under the hood, it made up for in a pretty impressive stereo system. Not that Dom made the hubcaps hum with the bass and reverb -- no use in antagonizing the neighbors -- but it was a nice system. Brian's CD collection, though. There didn't seem to be anything the kid didn't listen to, from arias to rap, maybe a little heavy on the power alternatives. It was Los Lobos in the player though and that was okay with Dom.

He didn't really have to try very hard to find what he was looking for between the blaze of lights and a succession of cars with young to middle-aged women and kids. It was a little late in the day for dropping them off at school.

The Ralph's looked older, probably had been servicing the area for awhile. Just out of habit, Dom checked out the parking lot, cruising it twice, to make sure there were no cops making a pit stop to pick up flowers for a pissed off missus.

A glance in the rear view gave him a little pause. He was glad he'd shaved but that cut on his head still looked nasty as did the bruises on his face and jaw. A quick hunt found a baseball cap in the back seat.

He could even enjoy the irony of having the LAPD logo flashed across his forehead.

He didn't intend to stock Brian's kitchen, but he did grab enough for a day or so, making quick work and keeping it to a carry basket. Easy stuff mostly, but he hesitated over fresh vegetables, steaks, things that would be normal for him to pick up. And it was normal for him because Mia…Mia didn't mind cooking or cleaning as long as none of them got too disgusting and Dom would never dump it all on her anyway. Nina Gutierrez came in a couple of times a month to help with the heavy stuff and Dom kept her fifteen year old Toyota running like it was new. Grocery shopping, Dom did, although mostly they pulled routine stuff from the market, but the fresh stuff -- he wanted that. While he was in prison, Mia had apparently learned to live on canned food and nuke boxes, cooking only occasionally although she'd been doing it for years, helping out both Dom and their dad. Kitchen time was good time, meals were too. Out of prison, Dom wanted food that tasted like it actually came from somewhere, and he'd been willing to put in the effort to make it happen. It hadn't taken Mia long at all to fall into it, for him primarily, and then they'd dragged down their mother's old cookbooks from somewhere up at the top of the cabinets and actually started trying to recreate the meals they remembered.

It had been good for both of them, let them reconnect, remember they were family as nothing else could have.

Glancing at the array of fresh vegetables, he grinned at himself. Yeah, all food was comfort food. But he got the impression that anything left over at Brian's would only create an even more hazardous condition in his refrigerator and settled on a small onion, a pepper and a single tomato. If nothing else, come morning, he'd make a frittata that would hold him through lunch. All in all though he was still looking for fast and easy, bland but filling. Brian hadn't really eaten anything and that had Dom a little worried. More in the maybe-there-was-damage-they-were-missing way than the "you're too skinny" way because Brian's wasn't really. Not as heavy as Dom or even as muscular but what was there was solid. He hadn't been exactly outmatched by Vince either when they were brawling in front of the market, or when Brian was all but tossing Vince from the semi to the car.

Dom paused for a minute, after dropping a quart of OJ into his basket. He'd been back a few hundred yards when Brian had made that move and not until Leon had stopped to pick him up and chased after them had Dom really understood what Brian was trying to do.

Even feeling pretty horrified and totally out of control of the situation, Dom had been proud of Mia for holding the line. It hadn't been easy for him or for Letty and they both drove a lot better than Mia did.

She hadn't been entirely holding it when Brian had jumped back. And the bruise on Brian's chest -- it was older, by a day or more and now Dom knew why -- Brian was lucky he hadn't slid of the roof. But he hadn't escaped like some comic book hero. His skin bruised, bones could be broken. A swerve, a miscalculation, and Brian would have ended up under the wheels of the truck. Vince would have bled to death. Jesse would still be dead.

And Dom would have probably never have known Brian was a cop. He wasn't sure Mia would have told him if Brian hadn't first. For a second there, he hadn't been sure she would come with them, that she'd choose him over Brian. But she had. She'd picked family, they'd all picked family.

Even Brian.

He made it through the checkout with nothing more than a little flirting from the cashier, intending to head back. Make sure Brian hadn't managed to finally pass out, but even as he drove he realized he was tired. Even something as simple as eggs might require more energy than he actually had -- and to cook, he'd have to clean up the mess already in the kitchen.

An hour ago, take out had seemed like the worst thing he could imagine. Now, convenience was everything it was cracked up to be. The drive through was quickest, but he pulled into a parking slot to eat, stashing a couple of extra burgers away for Brian. He hadn't been kidding about needing to think and he wasn't sure he could do that if he had to go through another set of mental gymnastics to try and talk to O'Conner.

He couldn't remember anyone who kept him quite so off balance. None of his tribe -- he knew them all too well, had known them too long. Familiar, dependable even in their occasional flakiness. Brian, though, was harder to get a grip on. He was alternately driving Dom batshit, or reminding him why he'd liked him in the first place. Maybe it was because he was new or maybe it was because he was as contrary as he was charming,

There was a word for him: charming. Disarmingly so. He really was like an over-eager puppy one minute and then totally serious, take no shit, focused the next. The only time Dom had really ever thought he might lose it was on the side of the road, because that had been definite panic in his voice, in his face. Vince's life, Dom's anger, it was hard to say what had set it off. He had Vince's blood on his hands, as did Dom, Mia. They'd been kneeling in it.

He felt his food come back up, threaten to, and he stopped, breathed, pulled the cap off his head and closed his eyes. Reliving every moment of the truck jacking, of getting back home, of Jesse -- it wasn't making it better.

He still had unfinished business with Brian, except now, maybe -- no, more like positively -- the balance sheet had shifted and the weight was not in Dom's favor.

Alive and not in jail. That was it. Nothing else. Not even…Shit. This was not something Dom really wanted to think about but, like the replay of the second worst day of his life, he couldn't let go of it. The worst day was watching his father die, but the second worst….yesterday. And not just because Jesse was dead, or because Letty was hurt and furious and angry. She was another one that Dom really needed to talk to if he was truly going to face the music. He and Letty had a lot of history, maybe even a future. Once. He wasn't sure of that either right now.

And that had everything to do with Brian and not in any way that Letty would understand, even if Brian were as straight as a power pole. If Dom had a future at all, it was pretty much due to Brian both being a cop and being a really bad cop.

And Dom really, really hated to be on the debit end of anything.

It bothered him too, that Brian apparently knew a lot more about him than he realized and what Brian didn't know, he was probably smart enough to figure out.

His time in Lompoc felt both really far away and painfully close. It bugged him that Brian knew more than his own family. Not that he wanted Mia or Letty or Vince or Leon to know…he wanted all of it to disappear. Most of it. All of it.

He'd expected the posturing, the rough greetings, the challenges. He'd been younger then and cockier. Death had seemed like a better option than some of the offers he got, both overt and forceful. But the truth was that he was good with his fists, he'd always been a little rougher in making a point that was probably necessary, and not too long after his sentence started, he'd met Ellis.

Paul Ellis who reminded him of Jesse in a weird way. In for grand theft auto and assault with a deadly weapon, Ellis had gotten five to seven and that only because he'd been so stoned and high on crack, the guy he'd shot lived. Ellis, who even when he wasn't on drugs, acted like he was, all energy and flash, smarter than any crackhead should be after creaming his brain with that crap. Ellis who knew a little something about everyone, even the guards, and who, given motivation enough could make life in the joint just a little less nightmarish. Dom half-suspected that the stash of chocolates and cigarettes that came to him pretty regularly, were gifts from his former pusher in hopes of regaining his client once Ellis was out. Whatever it was, he had it, but he'd done two years already and …it was wearing on him.

Not exactly a top dog, but of the bottom dogs, Ellis had some space, enough to be willing to bargain a bit of his mojo to get a little relief. Dom hadn't been willing to play the revenge game with Ellis and more than once it had been Ellis who had seen his fist close up for trying to maneuver Dom into something that would get him a few more days of solitary. Dom also hadn't been willing to swap up with anyone giving him problems, even though, by the rules of that twisted universe behind the guard towers, Ellis was pretty much his to use or offer any way he wanted. He'd had his resolve tested more than once.

Recreational options were pretty lean. There was the yard and the occasional game of pickup basketball. There was the library. There were meals. There were fights. There were long empty stretches with nothing but time on his hands and frustration in every nerve.

Ellis had been as much distraction as anything. He'd been Dom's shadow, his bargaining chip, but mostly, just as Dom had pointed out to Brian, Ellis had been his bitch. Cocksucking had been first. It had taken Dom some time to actually move beyond that. Then it wasn't anything but relief.

But it was all physical relief. There wasn't any touching other than what was necessary. And still, he'd liked Ellis well enough. He was funny, could hold a decent conversation, could tag the better books and a few goodies for Dom. He could be a bitch too, in other senses of the word.

And when Dom had walked out of Lompoc at the end of his sentence, he hadn't given Paul Ellis more than a half-minute's thought. For all he knew now, Ellis could be out or he could be dead. For certain, the minute Dom's back was out the door, he was angling to be someone else's bitch.

At the very worst of Dom's time in prison Ellis had been a virtual punching bag that wouldn't hit back. At the very best, he'd actually managed to remind Dom that he could still laugh.

But in no way could or would Dom ever think the man was anything like a friend. It didn't work that way, not in prison. Services rendered on both sides. Dom kept Ellis from getting passed around like a cheap bottle of booze and Ellis kept Dom on the upside of the dogpile both by his presence and his never-ending stream of information.

Oddly enough, it had never occurred to Dom until now that Ellis had chosen him, rather than the other way around. Not that he would have because the brutal reality of what happened in the cells when the guards weren't looking had been, if not a surprise, then a lot worse than Dom had imagined. Dom had been ready to fight to survive, he just hadn't realized that the actual battles might not all be won by show of strength. He'd never asked Ellis why, why him when there were guys who would be there longer, who were even less likely to take shit off anyone than Dom was.

Brian didn't need his protection and maybe he might want something more than Dom could offer but he wasn't asking for it. As far as Dom could see, it wasn't even on the table.

He wasn't in Lompoc any longer. The rules were different out here. The rules, such as they were, maybe meant something. They'd meant enough for Brian to become a cop. They hadn't meant enough for him to stay one.

So, Brian was out of a job, Dom was pretty much out of his home and that cut deep, the idea that he'd have to abandon everything his parents and grandparents had built. Mia would have to leave it as well, although she didn't know it yet.

He started the car engine again and let it idle. Maybe he couldn't make it right for Brian, but he could at least give him options. Money wasn't really an issue, but Dom suspected Brian hadn't been lying when he said he paid his own way. There was pride enough in Brian to maybe make that work for both of them because even leaving home, leaving Echo Park…Dom was pretty sure that he wasn't entirely ready to cut the ties to the country of his birth and that meant having someone he could trust that could move back and forth between Mexico and the states. Mia could do it, would probably insist because she wasn't going to give up her home, her life, her friends and her dream of graduating college because Dom said so, and he didn't want to ask her.

He could ask Brian though. Would ask. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was more in LA for Brian than he realized and it bugged him a little that he didn't know, that he didn't know more. That what he did know, or thought he did, might not be real. It felt really strange to feel like he owed so much to a man who was pretty much a stranger.

Except Brian really didn't feel like a stranger entirely. Strange, absolutely. He really was a freak in some ways -- ways Dom wasn't entirely ready to address just yet because it would weird him out. And that was something he'd only admit to himself in the half empty parking lot of a fast food joint -- it would weird him out to actually watch Brian cruise a guy. Of course, this also explained why maybe Letty hadn't pinged his radar. But apparently, he hadn't pinged on hers either and weren't chicks like, supposed to have sense about faggots? But neither Mia nor Letty had picked up on it…only Vince had.

Oh, Holy Mary, Mother of God, he did not even want to try and figure that one out. Truth was, Vince probably didn't know, or guess, no matter what he'd said. Calling Brian a faggot had less to do with insight and a hell of a lot more to do with jealousy. Misdirected because Mia, as much as she loved Vince, wasn't likely to ever give him the kind of looks he wanted. Vince had been a fixture in their lives since Dom was a kid, and that made Vince more like another brother than someone who Mia might want any other way. Different for him and Letty, but Dom couldn't say why.

He pulled the car out, heading back, but taking his time. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over for a traffic violation.

Reaching the house, he was just as glad that he had bought light -- not that he'd admit it. It was a sad day when he couldn't carry groceries.

Sidestepping the mess in the kitchen was just more of the same and he idly wondered if Brian even owned a mop. The counter he could do, though, and did, and dumped the dishes and pans into the sink to soak.

He flat out refused to put the good food in with the science experiments in the refrigerator and tossed those before unloading his goods and snagging another beer. A drink for Brian, and Dom glanced around, seeing the open door.

This felt weird and he stalled, hunting up the sling and the drugs to ease the ache in his shoulder, which also felt weird. He wasn't afraid of Brian. It wasn't like Brian was going to do anything, or even could. It was probably a good sign that he'd made it outside although he looked pretty rough still. But something had shifted, changed and Dom didn't quite know what to do with the difference.

And if Brian said no?

Despite his refusal to leave until he talked to Mia, Dom knew he couldn't stay. Not really. Eventually, somebody would see him and the local cops already knew him on sight, by rep.

Offerings in hand he headed out and dropped the sports drink and food in Brian's hand.

"You found the grocery store."

Duh. "Followed a soccer mom." He settled into the other chair and found the arm actually was the perfect height to take the weight of his shoulder.

"What was she driving?"

It struck Dom as funny, given their previous conversation. Two guys on a porch, having a beer -- or something. This was not normal. "Honda Accord, 98. Her tires were low."

Brian had actually polished off nearly half his bottle by the time he spoke again and it was cautious, just like he was cautiously not looking at Dom. "What are you going to do?"

About which thing? The warrant? Mia? Letty? Vince? Brian's admission? He didn't have a single answer for all of them, but then again, the question wasn't that complicated. "Talk to Mia. Grab some cash. Head to Mexico. Wanna come with me?"

There. He'd offered.

"Sure."

He couldn't be certain who was more surprised at Brian's answer, Brian or himself. But Dom couldn't deny that it gave him a little pleasure. It got him more time to figure this out. And he would. "Good, cause I need to use your car."

"Won't you be embarrassed?" Brian asked.

"Humiliated. But it runs, it's not stolen, and it's not gonna grab attention. Stuff you need?"

Bran shrugged -- carefully. "Clothes…clear my bank account. Drop a note to my landlord. Not much here I'm going to miss. Or need."

"Anyone you need to call?"

Brian looked over him and that grin of his, the one that alternately made Dom feel like Brian was laughing at him or telling him to fuck off, was there. "No, man. Travel light. Travel fast."

"We get down to Baja and you can drive as fast as you want," Dom promised.

They didn't stay out much longer. Brian made a valiant effort at choking down some burger, but it didn't look to be sitting too well. Sports drink though…Brian eased himself out of his chair and went in for a second.

Dom sat for awhile longer, no longer feeling the urge to do something. He had a plan of sorts, that always helped, but…

It was suddenly more awkward with Brian. How did someone as good looking and, yeah, charming, as Brian end up with no one who needed to know he was about to disappear? Okay, so maybe some of his best friends were on the force, and they were none too happy with him at the moment. He'd been here eight months, in this house, but in LA? There was no way he could be that fresh out of the academy, so he'd been living somewhere else.

Maybe it had something to do with his unfortunate dating habits.

When Brian didn't come back out after fifteen minutes or so, Dom went in. There was a soft-side bag on the love seat that hadn't been there before. Beyond that he could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing.

Brian was not rushing it, but it was as if the decision having been made, he wasn't going to give himself time for second thoughts. One bag, and he was skimming through the dresser like other people tested produce. He glanced up when Dom came in. "Do we have an actual place we're heading to?"

"More or less."

"Does it have running water?"

Dom smiled and looked down. "I think we can find something. Indoor plumbing too. Satellite TV."

"Sounds like paradise."

"Not quite. San Diego's not far."

Brian nodded and finished ransacking his drawers, then sat on the end of the bed. "Dom…I meant it when I said you don't owe me anything."

"I know you did. Mutual advantage, Brian. No contract. Think of it as an unpaid vacation."

"You think Hector's got the car yet?"

Dom glanced at the window. "Later probably."

"Jesse did a good job with it. Totally kicked ass."

Dom only nodded. What was there to say?

Nothing. "Brian…you don't owe me anything either. Just so we're clear."

Blue eyes regarded him steadily for a long moment before nodding. "Clean slate."

That wasn't so easy. "Factory direct, bro."

It seemed to satisfy Brian and Dom ducked back out again. Even factory direct needed a few modifications to run smoothly.

###  Part Nine:

Things shifted. Brian wasn't all that surprised. He finished packing his clothes, added a few towels, toiletries, and kind of avoided leaving the bedroom. Dom pretty much avoided leaving the living room and kitchen.

Brian heard him though: the sound of water running, pots banging a little. The refrigerator opening and closing and the clank of glass bottles. It was a truce of sorts, only it was a truce to a different disagreement than Brian thought they'd been having.

But Dom had asked Brian to go and Brian would go, for lack of anything better to do, maybe to spite Tanner's warning.

Because Dom had asked him. The man was not short on guts.

He'd finally reached the limits of whatever burst of energy had gotten him up and moving and crawled into bed while he could still hear music playing in the living room.

It didn't keep him from waking up a little when Dom finally decided it was safe enough to return. Wisely, he had decided not to give the love seat a try and Brian feigned sleep while Dom pulled off his shirt and stretched out on the bed. Brian was still too sore and tired for even his libido to snicker at him and even Dom's snores didn't keep him from crawling back into the darkness.

Morning seemed to come far too early, but when Brian finally cracked his eyes open, it was well past nine, the room still dark. There was a reason he had dark drapes up in here. Southern exposure made the bedroom unbearably bright in the mornings.

But it was neither brightness nor late hour that woke him, once he heard the pounding again. Somebody was at the door.

"Dom…" Brian twisted around without a thought and paid for it seconds later, but he found Dom awake too, only barely. "Somebody's here," he warned and then managed to drag himself upward and get his feet on the floor. "I'm coming!" he shouted, pushing himself more than was probably wise. He pulled the bedroom door shut, just in case.

He hesitated before approaching, only to catch a glimpse of dark hair and then a small hand worming its way past the broken glass to try for the doorknob.

"Mia, just give me a second," he said.

It was more than a second and by the time he actually got the door open, Mia looked pissed off. She also looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep, something it looked like she was ready to comment on but her mouth opened and then closed as she stared at him.

Head to toe, eyes raking over him in surprise, maybe some dismay but her expression hardened and she pushed in, Brian stepping back and closing the door behind her. "Where is he?" she asked.

"Here." Dom was there, in the hallway.

For a long moment Brian watched them. Mia almost flew to her brother and whatever residual pain or weakness Dom might be feeling, he didn't show it because he had both arms wrapped around her and was practically lifting her off the floor.

Without a word, Brian opened the door again and stepped outside, eyes scanning the street. He wasn't really looking for anything, but saw Mia's car, his own, a few he recognized but one he didn't. Nothing too pretentious, just a dull looking, black sedan, parked on the street a few houses down in front of a neighbor who had a pretty roomy driveway.

Uh huh. Subtle.

Well, he could do subtle. Taking his time, he stepped off the porch and headed for his mail box, which was pretty much crammed full. He pulled out items and looked at them in between keeping an eye on the car and glancing back at the house, and praying Dom wouldn't suddenly show his face.

He didn't though, and Brian headed back, having verified that the car was occupied and idling. Not parked. Tanner may have pulled surveillance off him but Mia was still being watched. That could make things a little complicated.

They both looked up when he came in and dumped his mail on the counter. "Mia's got a tail."

"She said," Dom agreed, both hands on her shoulders.

"Okay," Brian said. He doubted they'd really tried to hide but he wanted Dom to know. He moved past both of them into the kitchen.

Mia's eyes followed him, her mouth still set. "You do that to him?" she asked Dom.

"No, he didn't," Brian said.

"Too bad."

Whoa. That level of viciousness actually did surprise Brian. Not that he supposed she didn't have some cause.

"Mia…" Dom voice was a little chiding, a little pleading.

It took her a moment but then she frowned and dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry," she said and Brian only nodded. "I'm…I didn't get much sleep and--"

"It's fine, Mia," Brian said. He didn't want apologies from Dom, and he sure as hell did not want one from Mia. No matter what else, he had treated her badly. Her face fell a little and Brian didn't want to see it so he made coffee instead. "If you guys need to talk, I can make myself scarce."

"No…you're part of this now," Dom said and urged Mia toward a stool. "Mia...you eaten?"

"Yeah…" she said, trying for calm for being as cool as her brother.

"We haven't," Dom said, and moved into the kitchen behind Brian, pulling things out of the refrigerator, out of the cabinets. Brian finished setting up the coffee pot and got out of his way. "What you got, girl?"

"Uh…here," she said and pulled the oversized sling bag off her shoulder and started pulling things out of it. She passed over a little packet of papers and Dom took them while Mia reached down and grabbed the bowl and carton of eggs, and started cracking. "Four or six, Dom?" she asked and it took Brian a minute to realize she was talking about the eggs.

"You eating?"

A smile emerged on her face, and suddenly the tension in the room dropped about a hundred notches. "Yeah."

"Six then," Dom said, thumbing through the paperwork. Some of it Brian couldn't make out but the driver's license with Dom's picture gave him a pretty good idea of the rest. There were keys too and what looked like a property deed in English and Spanish.

Contingency plans. Or had this been the goal all along? Dom was smart, focused, but shit…how many jobs had he planned to do before he would have decided they were enough? This looked more like an interrupt than the whole enchilada. A million plus in street value and Brian would bet the last of his money that the electronics from the heists weren't sitting in a warehouse somewhere waiting for Vince to sell them out of the back of his car.

It was one thing to make the decision that he liked Dom, felt strongly enough about him to do what he had. But it was another to see the end of the plan being put into gear. It was a whole other set of thought processes to realize that even without the truckers arming up, it was inevitable that somebody was going to get hurt or killed.

Brian had been wrong. Dead wrong about Dom on a lot of counts.

He'd never equated Dom with street punks. He was too intelligent, too…there was too much to him for the quick job and high alone. He'd known that all along, he just had never allowed himself to take that thought to its logical conclusion. And Dom was kind of on the high side of age to keep racing kids who hadn't been out of grammar school when he was in prison. Some of them hadn't even been out of diapers.

Dom had said one of the reasons Johnny Tran hated him so was a business deal that had gone bad. Somehow, Brian doubted that Tran's sister was more than adding insult to injury. And the Trans…far more the kind of mafia style criminal organization the FBI should take an interest in. Or would, if Brian was going to be all idealistic and shit.

Mia obviously knew a whole lot more than Brian had guessed. Maybe not the time and targets of the heists, but enough. Not enough, he didn't think, for the police or the FBI to actually take her as the only participant they could prosecute, but innocent she wasn't.

He suddenly felt sick, in that who-did-he-think-he'd-been-fooling kind of way. "Excuse me," he muttered, catching surprise on both their faces as he contemplated taking a walk. But no, that would look strange for him to leave while Mia was still in the house. If the two cops on the street had any brains they'd be suspicious.

That left out the porch as well and Brian slid past Mia to head for the bedroom and then the bathroom. Door closed and water running, he leaned down, not sure if his reaction was really in reaction to the sudden shift of his thoughts, or if his body was just awake enough now to actually start protesting again.

He'd been ready to kiss his old life goodbye. It hadn't seemed to actually be that hard a choice when it came down to it. But this…it was one thing to watch your life change. It was another to actually notice a fundamental change in yourself.

Outside of juvenile bullshit, Brian really had walked the straight and narrow pretty steadily. Either because of his father or because juvie had taught him something…he might never know.

Tanner was more right about Dom than he knew, and Brian had pretty much willed himself not to see it. Even without charges leveled against him, he was about to become one step above a fugitive. And for what?

He couldn't even honestly chalk it up to lust, to the short circuiting that desire could do his brain. It was there, no doubt, but…

Someone tapped on the door and Brian didn't have to guess and Dom didn't wait.

"You okay?"

Brian stared at Dom's face for a long time in the mirror before turning around. "How far does this go?"

Dom didn't pretend to not understand but he didn't really look like he wanted to answer either because he still didn't trust Brian or because he didn't think it was any of Brian's business. "You sure you want to know?"

"I think before I head to Mexico with you, I'd better know."

Dom considered that and then nodded. "Okay. But come back out, 'cause Mia needs to know too. More than she does."

More than -- Brian couldn't even ask because Dom was headed back to the kitchen.

Something smelled pretty good on the stove and Mia was watching it, but she looked up when they returned, her gaze at Brian pretty obviously suspicious, but for Dom there was only confusion. "I got it, Mia," Dom offered and changed places with her.

He gave whatever was in the pan a check and turned the heat down low. "Mia…you're going to need to pull out of school, transfer your credits down to San Diego or something," he said, which wasn't what Brian expected to hear.

Mia either apparently. "Huh-what? What are you talking about? I'm not moving. Why-- the cops aren't going to do anything to me, Dom. And there's …I can't just leave. We both can't."

"We…are gonna have to," Dom said. "Close the market. Ask Nina if her son and his wife want the house -- to rent or something. We'll give them a break. The rest we'll handle later."

The family resemblance was never so acute as when one of them was being stubborn ."No. No way," Mia said. "This was your deal, Dom. Not mine, and I'm not paying for it. Not this way."

Dom looked pained but he held his ground, leaning across the counter to put his level with Mia's. "I never wanted you to pay for it either, bella, but…this isn't about the cops. It's about the Trans."

Mia blinked at him, processing that then shook her head. "No. No. It's over. Jesse's dead. They've got no beef with us."

"Oh, yeah. They do. Because Johnny Tran is also dead."

"You didn't kill him," Brian said.

"I don't think Tran senior is going to make that fine a distinction," Dom said dryly. "As far as that bunch is concerned, you're on my team," Dom said.

And as far as you're concerned, Dom? Brian almost asked but didn't.

Dom shifted his gaze back to Mia. "And you are not going to be the next score on the card. Johnny Tran did not spring a full-fledged vindictive bastard from his mother's womb. He learned it from somebody and I don't want you to be in the line of fire if Mr. Tran's fucked up sense of Asian honor gets out of hand. You get me, little girl? If anything, having the cops trailing you around actually gets us some time."

Mia looked ready to protest some more, but she was also starting to look scared. A good thing, probably, but Brian was watching Dom. This wasn't all of it. Not by a long shot. Some of it and maybe partly why Dom thought it a good idea if Brian took a vacation.

"I…I can't do this in a day," she finally said, and Dom relaxed a little and turned back to the food.

"I know that…I don't expect you to, but some of it you can do from San Diego. And you know the Gutierrez's will take good care of the house," Dom said. Plates were already down and he divided up the frittata, giving Mia a smaller portion and glancing at Brian to see if he wanted half of what was left. Brian shook his head.

"What if I…"

"Not an option," Dom said firmly. "Unless you want me back in jail."

Mia's eyes widened, and her mouth opened. "Don't you…don't you pull that shit! Fuck you, you…selfish, self-centered, fucking son of a bitch," she snarled out and got up, shoving backward and heading for the door. Dom didn't move but Brian got up, alarmed, worried -- but confused. Impressed too.

"Uh…" Brian took two steps toward the door when Mia slammed through it.

"She won't go far. Eat," Dom said and rubbed at his face. He looked tired.

"You'd go back to jail…"

Dom was using the edge of his fork to cut his eggs into a series of bite size pieces, but he looked up, met Brian's stare with a milder regard, but there was tension around his mouth again, in his shoulders. Not gladly, but Brian could see it. Mia was all Dom had left of his family. The others -- his team -- close. Very close but not the same. Brian wasn't sure anyone could even come close to being as important as his sister to him, not yet. Not now, anyway. "It would probably satisfy Mr. Tran," he said as easy as if he were talking about the weather.

"You seem pretty sure of that," Brian said, taking a bite of the food. It was good and he was hungry, amazingly enough. He eyed Dom. "This goes that far?"

Dom was chewing but he nodded. "A couple of years ago, Johnny Tran came hunting Jesse, wanted to put his brains to mods on those crotch rockets they ride. They had a deal, see? To hit trucks coming out of his father's shipping warehouses. Take the cargo, sell it, in the meantime, Papa-san gets to collect on the insurance. Nice little family deal. Only…the first time they tried it…" Dom made swerving motion with his hand. "Truck blew them off the highway. They didn't even get close. But…it was…" he shrugged and went back to eating. "It was a good idea. Johnny was just too stupid and his riders too chicken shit to pull it off. So…" his eyes flicked up to Brian. "Sounded like fun," he said mildly.

"You are shitting me," Brian said and was mentally trying to back up to what he knew. Previous truck jackings…before the last few months. Either no one had made the connection or Bilkins had been holding out on them. "You started this for….kicks."

"Partly. It was a challenge. We made it happen. It pissed Johnny off. But Papa, he was impressed."

"That's why Johnny hated you so much. You showed him up."

"I showed him how it could be done," Dom corrected. "We did a couple more, before the insurance company got suspicious and Mr. Tran called it off, gave us our cut. He was done and he put a leash on Johnny before he took it too far."

"You ran them the same?" Brian said.

Dom shook his head. "No…we did a squeeze before, but it was…too much time on the side of the road. The spearguns were Leon's idea. Kind of. Made it easier and we didn't need the Trans, what we needed was information and a fence. It took a year or so to put it together. But it wasn't cutting into Tran's operation, only Johnny didn't see it that way. Plus, he'd lost face with his father. Mr. Tran didn't want there to be any problems, but now…now we have a problem."

"Because Johnny is his son."

"Eldest son. Yeah. He's got another one but I think he's like four," Dom said and Brian had a sudden bizarre flash of seeing this feud continuing some twenty years down the road. There was stepping in shit -- and then there was having it dumped by the truckload on you. "Brian…Mia doesn't know all of this. She doesn't need to know, but she needs to know the threat is serious. Johnny and Lance were assholes. Mr. Tran -- he's not an asshole, but he is a very dangerous man to cross. It's not something I ever meant to do. I'm hoping his reach isn't as long as his memory," Dom added.

If it were, San Diego wouldn't be far enough, nor would Mexico. "I hear the Bahamas are nice this time of year," Brian said. "Cozumel, maybe the Florida Keys. How's Cuba sound?"

Dom gave him a sarcastic smile. "Mexico is fine. Tran may have some pull around here, but San Diego's a whole other market. Getting nervous?"

"One of us should be," Brian said and was interrupted by Mia before he could say anything else. Probably a good thing.

Mia still looked angry but she didn't immediately start in, only took her stool back and shoved her food back at Dom. "You have to give me time to find someone to take over the market. I'm not selling it. Or the house. I'm not," she said when Dom looked like he would argue. "If Santos and Rosa want to move into the house, they can. Maybe the market too. Rosa could do it, and then she wouldn't have to put her kids in day care. They could stay with her. And she could stop cleaning houses. People know them."

"Okay...all right, Mia. You do what you think is best, but no more…" he stopped and glanced at Brian. "How long are the cops going to keep watching her?"

Blowing out a breath, Brian gave it serious consideration. "Week maybe, ten days on the outside, of direct surveillance. I… might be able to get it longer. If I call Tanner and tell him about Tran. Tell him Mia said she'd seen them watching her. It wouldn't surprise him that she wouldn't call the cops and it would explain why she agreed to see me."

"I don't know enough about how they do things to even guess if there's some kind of mourning period…" Dom said. "A week, Mia."

She thought about it and then nodded. "Okay. Where will you be?"

"Here."

"Dom--" Brian said. "My house is not--"

"Not here, here, Brian. But she can't stay alone without somebody watching her."

"'She'," Mia said, "is sitting right here. Jesus, Dom! What are you going to do, hide in the attic?"

"Watch your mouth," Dom said. "I'm not kidding, Mia. Nothing is going to happen to you."

"Then we'll find another way. You cannot stay here, Dominic." Mia's voice was getting a little shrill. "What are you gonna do, follow me to class, to the grocery store? You can't protect me."

The expression on Dom's face wasn't one Brian could stare at for long. He'd seen it before, staring at Dom with a cell phone to his ear and Vince's blood pulsing hot and fast against his hands, then again in the driveway. Helpless, angry, the kind of backed-up emotion that made people say or do stupid things. That made people careless and make mistakes that cost them more than they really were ready to pay out.

But it showed up in anger and Dom's voice got harder, louder. "You think I'm kidding, Mia? That they might just stop at putting a bullet in your brain like they did Jesse?"

"And what? You going to hide out in a car with a gun and take shots at anyone you think might be a threat? The cops will have you the first time you show!" Mia snapped back at him, holding her ground.

"I can stay," Brian said and they both shut up. "Tell me a better solution, because she's right, Dom. You can't stay. And it would probably be better for you to try and get across the border without me. I can hang around, help Mia move, then…whatever." He looked at Mia. "But it's pretty much your call, Mia." Dom looked ready to jump in again and both Mia and Brian glared at him. "I know I'm probably the last person you want hanging around, but I can, will, help you handle this. You don't have to talk to me or anything much. Just don't like poison me or anything, okay?"

Mia looked uncomfortable and wary, folding her arms across her chest the way Dom sometimes did. "You'd stay at the house?"

"Until you move. I'll try to stay out of your way as much as possible, but…still be close. And if Tanner's keeping an eye on Tran…"

"Mia?" Dom asked, tone gentler.

"You trust him?" she asked

"Yeah. I do," Dom said without hesitation. "Mia, I'm the one that fucked this all up. I know it. And if I could go back and undo it, I would but I can't. You can still finish school, Still… the life you want, you can have. You just can't get to it from here. And…I'm sorry. I am," he added gruffly.

She looked like she wanted to cry again but she didn't, only grabbed her bag and started stuffing things back in it. "I'll leave the back door unlocked tonight. Dom's room is the second on the left. You can have that," she said and got up, flipping her hair back over her shoulder and looking like she'd like to hit both of them. "Later tonight if you want. I'm going to the library and then I have to talk to people about Jesse and I don't want you --either of you there. Dom, you better call me from Baja by tomorrow night or I will hunt you down and kick your ass myself. Capisce?"

"Capisce," Dom said, and even as angry as she looked and sounded, Mia still went to him and hugged him and let him hug her back tightly.

Brian she only stared at for a moment and then, "Walk me to my car," she said and he followed her, Dom shaking his head in confusion when Brian looked at him for some indication of what Mia might want.

Mia wasn't taking her time and Brian had to trot to catch up, which made him wince. "Mia, I know…"

"Shut up," she said quietly. "This is for show, nothing else," she added and spun around to reach up to kiss him on the cheek. There was still anger in her eyes but she smiled. "I'm not planning on being nice to you."

"I don't expect it," he said honestly. "I said it before, but I mean it, Mia. I am really, really sorry. Sorry that I lied to you, sorry that I hurt you, just…I am."

"I know," she said and stepped away. "That's the only reason I said yes. I want him gone. You get me? Do whatever you have to, but get him out of here and if you can't? Do not show up at my house. Understand?"

Brian could only nod and stepped up to the car, but Mia got in and started it up before he could say anything. A few moments later the sedan followed her, one impassive face stared at Brian as it passed and Brian almost swore.

Cruz. Figured. Off him and assigned to Mia. Just fucking great. The week was going to be a real joy.

Dom had actually managed to finish his breakfast and Brian gave it a try, eating more from need than desire. To celebrate, they split the last two pain pills and spent a few minutes cleaning up after themselves. Brian did actually have a mop.

"What about your stuff?" Dom asked him, staring at the stereo and furniture.

"What I want will fit in the trunk. The rest…" Brian shrugged. "Not exactly family heirlooms."

Dom nodded and fingered through Brian's CD's before lifting a handful and putting them in the soft-side on the loveseat. "In my room," he said. "Bottom drawer, there's a gun… ammo. You might need it."

He was serious and Brian nodded. "I'll keep close."

"See that you do," Dom said. "If you tell Tanner about Tran…"

Trickier. "I'll think of something…without bringing in the other stuff."

Dom chewed on his lower lip. "You know, Johnny accused me of narcing on him. I guess he was right. That's what you were really doing at Hector's, right?"

Brian hesitated but it was pointless now. "Checking tires…we hit the Trans because of what I saw in their garage. I didn't actually think we had enough evidence. I was right."

Dom was looking at him again and Brian wasn't sure he knew what to make of it. "You called… were you blind or just stupid?"

That pissed Brian off. "Both apparently. Where do you need to go? I can come back for this stuff," Brian spat out and went to find his keys, change.

Dom moved a whole lot faster than Brian could, his hand wrapping around Brian's upper arm and jerking him back a little. Brian might have swung on him again, no matter how bad an idea it was, but Dom's other hand was up and open, placating. "Bad choice of words. Did you really not think it was me, us?"

It was as close to an apology as he was going to get but it didn't matter. He didn't want Dom's apologies. At the moment, he didn't know what he did want and he jerked his arm away. Dom not touching him was as good a place to start as any. "I didn't want to believe it. Like you said. Stupid. I'm going to change. Let's get you moving and out of here before Mia decides to kill us both and save herself the aggravation." He pulled away again and this time Dom didn't stop him.

The shower was easier to manage, so was taking a piss. Brian still eyed his jeans with something less than love and found a pair of looser Dockers to wear instead. Dom had changed as well, into the slacks and shirts Mia had sent, wrap shades, and his expression once more schooled to cool.

"What's the plan?" Brian asked.

"We need to score me some wheels," Dom said.

(continued)


	3. Chapter 10-14

# Unfinished Business

  
**by Maygra**

## Chapters 10-14

### Part Ten:

Dom offered to let him drive but Brian passed, arguing he didn't know where they were going. The way Brian settled into the passenger seat though, said something else. Like maybe he could use at least another day in bed. Dom wouldn't have minded that himself except there was all this…stuff…that had to be settled. Things to do, people to see, disasters to avert.

Handling the steering wheel didn't do much more than make Dom's arm ache. He'd tested the shoulder when he changed and found the joint still swollen, still hot to the touch. If he didn't stop using it, he was going to be gimping along for awhile yet.

Of course if all went well, this would be no more difficult than a Sunday drive with Grandma. He had to head south a bit and Brian didn't ask when they hit the highway, only leaned back and stared out the window, or would lean back with his eyes closed. He never seemed to fall asleep but it was as good an avoidance technique as anything.

It bugged Dom, but he kept his mouth shut. Seemed like every time he thought he was closer to understanding Brian, to getting a handle on what he about, what he was thinking or feeling, something happened, or changed. He'd been a little surprised Brian had offered to stay with Mia; surprised more that she'd agreed. Maybe she had taken his threat seriously. Dom wasn't sure how far he'd have been willing to push it, but it all it took was two seconds of contemplating seeing Mia as dead on the sidewalk as Jesse had been to make it seem less like a threat and more like a real option. He had to own this one. All of it. Getting pissed off at Brian was just easier. Not fair, but easy.

Maybe because Brian was unimpressed by Dom's anger. His team, all of them, had a healthy respect for it and with good reason, but Brian, it seemed the only time he respected Dom's anger was when Dom had a good reason. Anything else and Brian would call him on his bullshit with those blue eyes flashing and that chin up. Unafraid and just daring Dom to keep pushing it, like he needed just that much more reason to truly drop the anvil on Dom. Except he never did, really. He just didn't back down in the face of it and Dom could only imagine what kind of experiences in Brian's life had combined to make that a character trait. Even Vince, who could be truly stupid at times, knew when to walk away.

Vince. He'd needed to find a way to check on him again and wondered if Brian could--

He stopped right there, almost easing off the gas until Brian perked up a bit and asked him what was wrong. "Nothing. Just thinking," Dom said flatly and picked up the pace again.

It was one thing to have Mia step up to do what needed to be done. Not his first choice but given the circumstances, they both knew it couldn't be any other way. Brian though…Brian had stepped up in ways that didn't fit any of Dom's little slots for who in his life was responsible for what.

His turn was up ahead but he slowed again, pulling into one of the scenic overlooks. They weren't that far from Neptune's Net but Dom didn't plan on stopping for lunch.

"What are we-- someone meeting us?" Brian asked as Dom parked.

"Naw…just a break," Dom said and got out of the car, moving forward to lean on the hood. Beyond the guardrail, the Pacific was so blue it was nearly black, whitecaps the only break in the shifting colors from green to dark blue to black and then back to blue again where the horizon was like one huge wall of nothing beyond. Brian got out more slowly, looking both annoyed and resigned.

He came forward too, though, to sit, and seemed to appreciate the sun on his face and the view, if nothing else. In broad daylight he really did look bad enough to scare women and children. Even under his sunglasses, the black eye truly looked black, enough to make Dom wonder if there wasn't a fracture under there somewhere. The swelling on his lip had gone down some but the cut looked fragile and awkward, ready to break open if Brian so much as smiled too broadly. His shirt and pants hid most of the rest but his knuckles were scabbed and the bruises on his forearms looked like a set of bizarre tattoos. "Where are we going?" Brian asked.

"Guy I know. Runs a junkyard. Every now and then he finds one that isn't quite junk…little work and voila…almost as good as new. They look like shit, but they're drivable and he has…well, kind of like auto-registration on demand. Won't hold up if we get stopped five minutes out, but give him a few days and..." Dom shrugged.

"Nothing like having friends in the DMV," Brian said but he seemed to not really care.

"You like being a cop?" Dom asked, which wasn't really what he wanted to know, but it was a step closer.

"In case you missed it, I'm not a cop anymore."

Okay, sore subject. Biting back a sharp comment, Dom only nodded.

"For the most part, yeah," Brian said after a moment, pulling himself further up on the hood. He tried to pull his knees up, and stopped, a tight expression on his face. Instead, he carefully dug his heels into the front bumper. "Being on patrol sucks. The crap people do to each other," he said shaking his head. "But sometimes, yeah. Sometimes it seemed like we made a difference. Not for the whole city, just a couple of people at a time. Other times it was like slamming your head against a wall. I liked the investigation part…well, some of it. Putting the pieces together. I hated the uniform though. Cramped my style," he said with a small smile on his lips. "You like being a criminal?"

Dom glanced at him sharply but the smile was still there, barely there. He pressed his hand to his chest. "Ow. That hurts, Bri. Really. Cutting deep, man."

The smile got a little more obvious. "Seriously, Dom? How come? You really are too smart for this. The money?"

"The money isn't bad," Dom said honestly. "I had…" What? Big dreams? Big hopes? Gone and he had no one but himself to blame. "You know, when I was eighteen, I wanted to be the next Mario Andretti, or… Dale Earnhardt. On the track, city to city….with a crew to keep me running and the champagne flowing." He spread his hands wide, framing it. "Fame, money, fortune…all that crap. And it is crap." This was harder than Dom thought. He could barely remember that kid, the one he'd been. "I went to all my dad's races that I could. He used to get pissed at me when I ducked out of school to watch him. I spent more time with the pit crews than with books or girls or anything. Every race was gonna be the big one, the one that would get him that next step up. Then it was all over for him and for me too. Maybe…maybe some of it was about the money -- the kind he should have made, I could have made, if I'd been good enough." If he hadn't ended two lives the day he beat Kenny Linder's face in.

"I was good enough to do this," Dom said. Brian was watching him, steadily, but his eyes were hidden and Dom found himself rambling. "It just got easier. More money meant better cars, faster engines. It meant not having to worry about…" Brian's words came back to him. "Doing tune ups and oil changes to make ends meet. I've…I've bumped a few cars, messed with some other deals, but this…no one was ever supposed to get hurt. Not the truckers, not us…I looked at Mr. Tran…running a legit business on one hand, stealing from himself and making double the profits. Big business. And it was all…just gear. Easy to move. Nothing anyone would die if they didn't get," he said and wondered why he was trying to justify his choice of targets, and if it sounded as lame to Brian as it did to himself. "It just got easier. And this last one…that was supposed to be it. One more ride before we all headed off into the sunset." He dropped his hands. "We should have quit while we were ahead. I pushed it…too hard. Pushed them too hard. Leon and Letty wanted to let it go…and Jesse. I should have gone looking for him then, not waited."

Brian didn't say anything but he wasn't smiling any more. "No one can see the future, man," he said after a moment. "Playing what if, that'll kill you."

Was that forgiveness? Dom wasn't sure what Brian had to forgive him for, or if he even had the ability. Well, there might be a couple of things. It should have made him angry, but it didn't. Brian wasn't blaming him for making bad choices -- not that Dom needed any help in that department. "Yeah, probably," he said. "My mother used to say everything happens for a reason. I don't know what the hell she was talking about, but it always seemed to help her get through the rough patches, when there wasn't enough money or food, or whatever. So, you know, if it'd been different, we'd have never met -- unless you busted a street race in your patrol car."

"Yeah…" Brian said and looked like he wanted to say more but only slid off the hood of the car. "Let's go."

Dom got up too but touched Brian's shoulder. "What…what else were you going to say?"

Brian took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. "It's the what ifs, Dom. Maybe we were supposed to meet, but…you know Jesse…that's the one that's killing me," he said.

Dom tensed again but then let it settle. It wasn't an accusation. It wasn't even cruelly obvious. It was what it was. Like so many things, he could make that one unhappen either.

"I was so pissed off at you, so sure you were gonna disappear," Brian was saying, staring out at the ocean. "I knew better."

Knew better. Whoa…"Wait, wait, wait…" Dom said. "That had nothing to do with you. Look. I fucked things up, but Jesse…That was Johnny Tran. Yeah, his beef was with me, but he and Lance--"

Brian was looking at him again and Dom stopped. Not smiling; he wasn't. But that steady gaze, blue eyes calm, not clouded by guilt, not…"You shit… you sorry fucker."

"Why? Because it's true? You didn't kill him, Dom."

"Get in the car," Dom snapped out. "They teach you that in cop school? That pop psych bullshit? You are fucking with me deliberately."

Brian put his sun glasses back on. "Yeah. Guilt and comfort 101. How's it working for you?" he said and got back in the car.

Dom didn't immediately, sure he wouldn't be able to keep from giving Brian another black eye. And Brian didn't do anything, didn't try to hurry him. Dom moved around the side of the car, staring at him in the window. "What are you doing? Having second thoughts?"

"Second, third, fourth…they keep coming, Dom. But here I am. And here you are. Nobody but the Trans wanted Jesse dead, and yeah, you could have been smarter, I could have been smarter. Jesse could have been smarter. But your mother was right. This is where we are."

"So I should what? Just forget it?"

Brian let his head drop back against the rest. "No…Dom, whatever you did, I did, Jesse did --those were our choices. Some of them were bad. I just don't…just don't make more bad choices because of them, all right? That's it. There is plenty of guilt to go around. Don't hog it."

"Jesse was not your fault."

"I know that!" Brian said. "But you know what, Dom? If I hadn't been working so hard to make it be any one but you, I'd have had you. Busted you so fast, that last job -- it never would have happened. Jesse would be in jail, along with you and Letty, Leon, and Vince. The whole thing would be done. But that's not how it went down. I don't want you to forget it. I don't want to forget it."

Leaning his good arm on the open window Dom shook his head. "I do not get you at all."

"I'm not that complicated." Brian let his head drop back again.

"You might as well be talking in some foreign language."

"Dom, in a couple of hours, you are going to be heading south. In a week, your sister is going to pick up her life and move it south too. You want to feel stupid, go ahead. You want to mourn Jesse, do that too, but you don't get to wallow in it, because the rest of us…we don't have that luxury. And really? Neither do you. You're at the end of the quarter mile, man. We all are," Brian said.

It took Dom a minute to realize that aside from the churning in his gut, he knew it. He hadn't been looking for forgiveness -- not from Mia, not from Brian, but he had it -- whether he wanted it or thought he deserved it. And Brian looked well past his quarter mile. Past patience, maybe.

He'd wanted to get to know Brian a little better, something he wasn't sure he'd ever consciously chosen to do with anyone before. He told Brian things he didn't usually talk about. But he'd expected Brian to tell him things too, since that mouth of his never seemed to get tired. And he was telling Dom things. Things Dom didn't want to hear.

He stood up again and walked back to the driver's side, sliding in and starting the car. "Do you ever not have an answer?" he asked, checking the traffic.

"No," Brian said, rolling his head to look at Dom. "No guarantees though, that my answers are the right ones."

"Yeah…look at you," Dom said, pulling back into traffic. "Ex cop with no job, hanging out with hoodlums."

Brian didn't say anything and Dom didn't really want to look too hard at his face. Another two miles and he made his turn, winding back off a side road and then inland. When he reached C. Harley's, he gave three pumps to the horn and waited for the gates to roll back.

The asphalt gave way to gravel and dirt and he pulled up in front of a pre-fab building made of corrugated steel. Cranes and compactors and towering piles of cars greeted them.

"Dom," Brian said as they both got out. He leaned across the roof of the car. "Whatever I am, I'm where I want to be, where I choose to be." There was no humor in his gaze at all. Maybe he had reached the end of his patience, the end of his cool. "Where's your friend?" Brian asked and turned away.

Dom stared at the back of Brian's head, thoughtfully, and believed him. It was not realization enough to make the earth move, however.

Dom moved around the car and found his hand closing over Brian's shoulder lightly, propelling him forward. "In the barn, man. He's a good man to know," he added and they took a few steps before Dom let his hand drop.

C. Harley looked like one of those men who'd had the life sucked out of him in a horror flick. He was tall and thin, muscular in a sinewy kind of way, skin weathered and worn. Mostly gray hair fell down in a scraggly ponytail to his mid back.

"Dom-i-nic!" he called out and Dom grinned, opened his arm and met the embrace offered.

"C, man, it's good to see you. You look like you are still holding the dogs back."

"I am, I am," C said and glanced at Brian then offered his hand.

"C, This is Brian. A friend…"

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Ooh, he's a polite one," C said and seemed amused. "So, what's got you up so early in the day?"

"Need some wheels, C. Nothing too flashy. Heading to Baja and don't want to attract any attention, you know?"

C nodded and studied Brian a moment longer. "Might have the thing. You not running any prejudices against old style are you? Got a Pontiac sedan. And a Dodge truck that's seen a few miles," he said and was walking. Dom followed him back through the cavernous warehouse, Brian a pace or two behind. The walls were lined with hubcaps from every car ever made it seemed, along with chrome fitting. Hood ornaments dangled like strangled birds from the rafters, glinting in the dusty light coming in from the open bay doors.

The furthest bay was less cluttered and but there were cars there, a couple still crumpled and broken but more than were in various stages of repair. Dom stopped suddenly, Brian right behind him.

Closest to the open bay was a black Honda Civic, the front caved in, the windshield crackled and part of it missing. It was nearly a total loss and why C would bring it in here…it was like a ghost come back to haunt him.

Brian's hand gripped his arm. "It's not yours, Dom. Yours and Letty's, they'll be in impound. Not here. Not this fast," he said quietly.

He was right. Dom nodded and tore his eyes from the wrecked hulk but gave it a wide berth.

Shaken, he only half paid attention to C. It took a few minutes for him to focus forward again, darker thoughts interrupted when C slid behind the wheel of the dark brown sedan and turned her over. It was a rough purr, deep and throaty, with a catch, but the car hummed along and Dom finally leaned forward to check her out. Not a muscle car, but definitely a runner. The frame was solid, the right back quarter panel dented, the front showing a patch that had been primed but not painted. It was boring as hell. It was perfect.

"She's good," Dom said and C grinned at him.

"She is, ain't she? Good girl. I don't even know why anyone scrapped her. Well, head gaskets was blown, block froze up…but I probably got a hundred engines to fit her. People are just stupid and wasteful. Throwing away a car like this like they'd toss a MacDonald's wrapper."

"Well, she's about to be my new best friend, C What you need for her?"

"You need papers?"

"If you got 'em."

C nodded. "Ten then…give me a name."

Dom fished out his new driver's license and a roll of cash the size of C's scrawny fist and laid both across the dirty hand.

"Grab yourself a drink, boys. This'll take a bit," he said and headed back toward the front of the building.

Dom followed more slowly, Brian falling into step as they made their way through the maze of parts. "Not a bad day's pay," Brian observed when they stopped near a vintage soda machine. It didn't need change through and Dom reached in and pulled out two sodas, popping the caps and passing one to Brian.

"Maybe," Dom said after the first sip. "He's picky though. He's not making a living off this, just covering his costs. C used to work my dad's pit crew," Dom said. "He's kind of like Jesse, only…not with the computer thing. Not the specs. Just the feel of an engine, how it sounds. Last of a dying breed," Dom said, feeling it was true. "Old school."

"There was a guy like that…when I was growing up," Brian said. "His garage was like a bio hazard, I swear, but…everybody took their cars to him. Never really kept up with the technology, though. He retired before I was out of school, but anyone who had a car built before 1980 still took their engines to him."

Brian had a smile on his face again, but it was different, not mocking or even outright amused. "You spend a lot of time there?"

The chuckle was slow and maybe a little embarrassed. "Yeah. He used to give me a dollar to patch tires. Just enough to make sure his soda machine didn't lose money," Brian said and tipped back his own bottle like it brought back good memories.

"My dad never paid me a dime," Dom said a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I had to earn the right to even touch his toolbox. Watching him take things apart and put them back together. C too."

"Never interested in anything else?"

Dom shook his head, leaning against the edge of an oil drum. "Naw. Girls eventually. Shop in high school. My mother was happier when I was taking carpentry. Her dad was one once. Made furniture…I could see the craft and I liked it, but automotive shop…metal shop. Probably the only reason I ever passed math was because Mr. Giraldi, our shop teacher, said we'd need to know it all. Science too. I think…My mother wanted me to go to college. But Mia was always the smart one. And after Mom died…seemed like. I don't know. Not my dream. Mia's though."

"What happened to her? Your mom?"

"Cancer. It was fast…Mia was ten. I wanted to drop out of school then, but," he shrugged.

"Your dad made you toe the line."

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Mine too," Brian said but nothing else. And Dom noticed this time -- that anytime Brian's family came up, he clammed up. "You gonna take off after C is done?"

Dom studied the sky. If he pushed it he could be at the border before sunset. It still felt odd to leave Mia here alone -- not necessarily with Brian, just not quite right. Like he was dodging a bullet or something. But short of hiding out, he couldn't stay. Mia would call the cops herself if she saw him, just to get it over with.

"Yeah. Mia's got the number…I'll call."

"We'll be okay, Dom." Brian sounded a whole lot more confident than Dom felt about it all. "I'll go back and grab my stuff, wait for her. I'll have her in San Diego by the end of the week."

Dom could only nod, because there was no way he could explain to Brian, without sounding like an idiot, how important Mia was to him. He thought Brian might know anyway, but it was like leaving a chunk of himself behind. He reached out suddenly and caught Brian at the back of the neck and leaned in, laying lips lightly on his forehead. "Take care of yourself, too, Bri. God didn't give you those good looks for nothing. You should treat them with more respect."

Brian looked startled and then he just laughed. "Don't freak on me, Toretto, but he didn't exactly short you in that department either," he said and held out his hand.

The clasp was firm sure and Dom broke it off. "Go on. No use in you waiting around here."

There was the briefest of hesitations before Brian nodded, and handed Dom the empty soda bottle. They walked back to the front of the warehouse together but at the door Dom stopped and Brian kept going.

"You should make good use of my garage on that piece of crap!" Dom called back and grinned when Brian flipped him off. A few moments later all that was left of his presence was dust in the air.

Then C called him and it was time to hit the road himself.

###  Part Eleven:

Brian was not entirely sure how he made it back home. It wasn't so much physical pain, or even the fact that his brain wouldn't shut down for the two minutes it would take to get a grip on himself. Everything was kind of blurring together, so much so that he ended up on his own street without any real recollection of the route back.

It was like when Dom left, he took all of Brian's energy with him. Or maybe it was just easier to stay focused on the goal with Dom right in front of him.

The most immediate goal, though, didn't leave him any time at all to try and sort through it. Another handful of Ibuprofen got him moving, and dulled the edge of the aches enough for him to carry out the few things he would need. Clothes mostly, the single bag holding enough to get him through the week. He cleared out the food again and then stood in his living room trying to think if there was anything else he would need.

Maybe eventually, but at the moment…he hadn't needed any of it for the past month, another week wouldn't kill him. Well not figuratively at least.

He made one stop to clear out as much cash as he could without having to go into the bank and spent a few moments at a stop light staring at a corner vendor wondering if Mia would like flowers or if she was likely to shove them someplace painful.

He had enough pain, and he took the green light while trying not to imagine exactly how awkward staying with Mia was going to be.

The market was closed, which was no real surprise and when he got to the house, Mia's car wasn't there. He didn't even try the door. She'd asked that he come by later but he had nothing more to do than kill time. He pulled up the drive and made sure to leave room, and prayed the neighbors wouldn't think he was trying to break in when he slid the wooden door back on the garage.

No one stopped him. He didn't try to move the Mustang into the space the Charger had occupied, but he did check out Dom's tools. He was right. Everything Brian needed to tune up the Mustang was here. Most of it was on the ground at the moment, the shelves cleared and storage bins opened. It looked like his fellow officers had given up without doing any damage, probably realizing they'd have to take the place apart to find anything.

Straightening it up would be something to do and a way to keep out of Mia's space while still staying close.

He spent long minutes staring at the picture of Mr. Toretto, seeing the resemblance to Dom and even to Mia. There was another picture to the side of it, a slightly older and different version of Mia looking back at him with a smile that made Brian wish he'd known her. He couldn't remember his own mother ever smiling like that. Not while she was still living with him and his father.

Years past it, Brian couldn't even blame her anymore. He had at the time and for years afterward. She'd asked him if he wanted to go too, but he'd been so angry at himself that for being glad she was leaving, that he'd said no. More than once. Finally she stopped asking.

If he tried really hard, he could remember when his father hadn't been such a bastard, so bitter: when he was younger, when he was whole, healthy -- holding a position that garnered some respect. A bullet had ended his career and somehow, fundamentally changed who Earl O'Conner was. He'd always been gruff, head of the family, but after the shooting, he hadn't been able to do for himself for months, not even get to the bathroom. He hadn't been paralyzed but bone and bullet fragments had done some serious damage to his pelvis. Pain medications only dulled it. Drinking dulled it more.

It had not quite been a Reader's Digest story of a heroic overcoming of adversity. The pension and disability he got left him comfortable financially, but between the pain and the increasing dependence on booze -- eventually even his old partner stopped visiting or calling much. He never quite denigrated into physical violence -- or nothing Brian and his mother couldn't avoid without half trying, but the verbal abuse, the demanding, angry diatribes against just about everything, took their toll. His mother had stayed for three years, pleaded, begged and threatened. And finally she'd had enough.

Brian wasn't even sure if they were actually divorced. His mother leaving hadn't scored any points with the people who knew them. Good wives didn't leave disabled husbands. Good mothers didn't leave their children.

Good people didn't always do the right thing.

If nothing else, his mother leaving actually got his father out of the house because Brian wasn't old enough to go to the liquor store for him. And his father hadn't been so much a lost cause that he hadn't at least seen to their basic needs, even if Brian had to be the one to get the groceries. A housekeeper came in once a week, and his father tried to at least be sober when she came.

Brian had seen worse in his two years as a cop, but it had taken him years to really understand that none of it was about him. He was a convenient target for his father's anger, frustration and fear. Being good enough ceased to be a problem when he realized nothing ever could be good enough.

It had taken more years for Brian to understand the full extent of his father's injury. It wasn't just the restricted mobility: the injury had left his father functionally impotent -- literally struck at his manhood on a physical and emotional level. Providing for his family was as important as being a "good" husband for his wife. He could do neither. Then just to make the loss complete, he stopped being a good father.

It didn't help that the punk who had shot him had never been caught.

His mother was a different story. She'd done her best to stay in touch, but she'd gone to Boston, where she had family still. She hadn't remarried but she had someone in her life. She sent cards, letters, money, asked about his father. She seemed to know when he'd been in trouble, keeping in touch with somebody but Brian never asked who and didn't care. Only now could he see that his own anger was probably as difficult for her to deal with as his father's had been.

She'd stopped calling as much when he told her he was going to be a cop. She still sent him birthday cards and Christmas cards, but their most recent conversation had been stilted and awkward. History repeating.

He could only wonder what she'd think if he virtually disappeared.

Maybe he could make it right somehow, but he pretty much found himself caught between not wanting to be bothered and desperately wishing it could be different. He just wasn't willing to be the one that made the change.

Oh, yeah, he was a great one to be giving advice to Dominic Toretto on how to live his life. And Sergeant Tanner knew Brian better than Brian really wanted to think about.

He needed to make that call and thought about it, not sure he'd even brought his cell phone. A few minutes digging around in his car located it. The battery was low but he called Tanner anyway, and got his voice mail.

"Sarge, it's Brian O'Conner. I've got…not what you want, but some information. I'll try later," he said and then shut it down. When Mia got back, there was no doubt that Tanner would know where he was.

It took a lot longer than he thought. Long enough for him to crawl back in his car and ease the seat back. Long enough for him to fall asleep, and then curse himself for being careless when Mia practically drove up his tail pipe.

She looked a little dressed up, somber in her skirt and top -- and Brian remembered she'd been going to deal with Jesse. He struggled to get out of the car, lucky he didn't end up flat on his face. The shadows were longer, the streets busier. Sleeping in his car hadn't improved anything, least of all his mood, but he clamped down hard on it and planned on being as much of a blank slate as possible.

Mia looked tired and wrung out but she didn't look nearly as pissed. Just sad. "He gone?" she asked.

"Yeah. Around one, I guess. We went to see C Harley."

"Good…that's good. How long have you been here?"

"Most of the afternoon."

She considered that. "Get your stuff," was all she added and Brian did, following her into the house.

It was trashed far more than the garage had been. Hard to tell if it had been the last party or the cops, and Mia frowned at it all then ignored it, leading the way upstairs. "You know where the bathroom is," she said, moving down the hall to the second door. "This is Dom's room. It's kind of --"

"Trashed," Brian said, not surprised. "Cops do this?"

"Yeah and the rest of it. Know anyone I can call to send the cleaning bill to?" she asked.

"I'll see what I can do," he said and dropped his bag on the floor. He had to tug the mattress back into place, which hurt. "Did they do this to your room too?" he asked.

For a moment, Brian thought she would break, but she only shook her head. "Not as bad. I just haven't had time to--"

"Mia, don't," Brian said. "Don't apologize, okay? I need a place to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, when you've done what you need to do, I'll help clean up. Fix or replace what's broken if I can."

He hadn't meant to make her cry. She was trying so hard not to, that he felt like a heel for doing it, even not knowing what he'd said to trigger it. And he wanted to touch her, hold her, but he didn't have the right. Not anymore, but he couldn't not reach out to her.

Surprisingly, she stepped into it. Startled, but taking it as permission, Brian pulled her in close and let her sob, stroking her hair, not trying to talk her out of it. When he took a small step back, she went with him until they were both sitting on the edge of Dom's bed, but the worst of it seemed to be past. Her sobs dwindled into sniffles and when she finally lifted her head, she looked angry and confused. "Oh, I hate this. All of it," she said softly, fiercely. "God…I could kill him."

"I think he knows that…" Brian said and she glared at him for a moment before shaking her head.

"Whatever got his ass in gear. He really did go?"

"As far as I know. I didn't follow him, Mia. But he got a car and we talked. I think he's pretty clear there isn't any other choice. He said he'd call when he got there," Brian said and realized he still didn't know where "there" was. He'd find out eventually, he supposed.

"Have you eaten?" she asked, changing the subject and wiping at her eyes.

"Uh, no. Not since this morning."

"Figures. Come on."

"Mia, I can…"

"Brian," she said, getting up. "I haven't eaten either. There's sandwich meat in the fridge. They didn't dump it out, only searched it. I'll provide the food. You can make your own sandwich."

Fair enough. Brian hesitated at the stairs though. Well, he was either going to work the lingering ache out or make it worse. If it was worse, he'd see about sleeping on the couch or something.

It was worse but he didn't actually curl up or anything and the newer ache eased up while they moved around the kitchen putting together a meal of sorts and sat down at the table to eat. The living room and dining room were as bad as the rest of the house, but Mia had obviously cleared off a corner of the table for herself. It didn't take much to clean off another one. "I meant what I said, Mia. I'll help anyway I can."

She nodded around a mouthful of food. "I need to find a moving company…I talked to Jesse's mother…but…" She closed her eyes. "I don't know how much she even understood. I'm not even sure she really understood that he's …he's gone."

Christ there were a lot of things he didn't know. "What's the deal with his mom?"

"She's an addict," Mia said. "His father's in prison…you knew that?" she said and Brian nodded. "His mother's…I don't know what she'll do. The only money she had coming in was what Jesse was bringing her, but she's so stoned…"

They wouldn't let Mia claim Jesse's body without his mother's consent. Which meant the county would hold onto him for…well, until whatever limit was reached and then they'd bury him somewhere in an unmarked grave, most likely. "I can see what I can do about that too," Brian offered, not sure he could do anything.

Mia was looking at him strangely. "Can you still do that? I mean didn't you get fired?"

"Yeah, I did…but not everyone on the force is a jerk, Mia. Honest. If there's a way to get around it…I can't promise to do anything but try."

"That would be good." Mia sounded surprised that he was sincere. "And Vince…"

"I'll see what I can find out, but I don't think they'll let him a have visitors. Not yet. I don't know what they'll charge him with. The last time I checked he was holding his own," Brian said and it wasn't a lie. It had also been a day or more ago. "Letty and Leon?"

Mia's expression became suspicious again and Brian took a breath. "Is there anything we need to do for them, call their families…get money to them," he said evenly.

"No…I don't think so. Letty called -- just to let her family know she was all right. Leon…Leon doesn't have anybody but us. But he wasn't hurt."

"All right. What else?" Brian said and was relieved when Mia shook her head.

"I can't think anymore. Tomorrow. I'll make a list," she said.

"Okay. Just let it go for tonight, Mia. I'll clean up in here," he offered. Not that there was much.

She let him, and then mostly avoided him for the next hour, trying to put some order back in the living room. Brian helped as much as he could while staying out of her way, but by the time Dom called Mia on her cell, his sandwich wasn't sitting so well. He didn't eavesdrop though.

"He wants to talk to you," Mia said, holding the phone out. Her eyes were moist again. "I'm going to bed."

Brian put the phone to his ear and watched Mia climb the stairs.

"She didn't poison you, I take it?" Dom asked and Brian smiled a little.

"No. I'm still standing. No problems. But we need to find a better way for you to call. The phones--"

"It's new. In a couple of days, she'll get another one," Dom said.

Which really wouldn't make any difference. Cell phones were easier to monitor than land lines and if they were, then he and Mia were already nailed. "Okay, just keep it to a minimum. How are you? Any problems?"

"My stomach was doing the mambo when I was crossing, but no…not really. How is she?"

"Exhausted. But she ate something. She needs some rest."

"You find my gun?"

"No. Dom, they tossed your house. I'll look, but my guess is it's downtown in the evidence lockup."

"Shit. I can call--"

Brian cut him off. "Dom. I'll handle it."

There was silence for a long moment, and Brian thought he could hear other voices. Maybe Letty and Leon. "Okay, yeah. But if you need to, you get in touch with Edwin."

Dom needed some rest too. Any contact Brian or Mia had with anyone connected to the case was going to be looked at closely. "I'll do that," he lied. "How are you doing?"

"I am…better. Tequila has fine medicinal affects."

"I'm sure it does," Brian said. "Have one for me."

"I will. Bri--"

"I'll look after her--"

"I get that…just watch your back, brother," Dom said finally.

Like it was yours, Brian thought but only said goodnight and shut the phone down.

He locked the doors and left the kitchen light on, grabbed a bottle of water and faced the stairs again. Chances were, Mia wouldn't have to kill him. The stairs would do it for her.

He thought about a shower, knowing it would ease the aches, but really didn't have the energy. Without even turning off the light in the room, he dropped onto the bed, and fell asleep about two seconds after he identified the scent on the pillows as Dom's.

It was raised voices that woke him the next morning. Mia's he could identify, but the other was less loud, masculine was familiar, but he couldn't place it immediately. Head pounding and steps less than steady, he headed toward the stairs

"He's not here. He hasn't been here!" Mia was practically screaming and from the first landing, Brian made the connection.

Alonzo Cruz was in the doorway with his partner, and the only thing keeping them out was the fact that they couldn't force the door open without shoving Mia back. The coat rack behind the door had fallen or been pulled down.

"Cruz, if you don't have a warrant you'd better get that foot of yours back outside the door," Brian snapped out and pounded down the stairs, every step jarring his spine. Yup, the stairs were gonna kill him.

Cruz looked up at him and Allston as well. "Gave up your badge to become a lawyer, O'Conner?" Allston taunted.

"Don't need to be a lawyer," Brian said and leaned his weight against the door. It was strictly symbolic. If these two made an issue of it, he wouldn't be able to hold the door, much less his own. "Mia, go call the cops -- the ones with manners," he said pulling her out from behind the door to get her clear. "Dial 555-2887, extension 3052. Ask for Detective Sergeant Tanner and tell him his dogs have slipped their leashes again," he said. "That would be Officers Scott Allston and Alonzo Cruz. Go on," he said when Mia looked at him to see if he was serious.

Mia did as she was told, watching them all.

For his part, Brian met Cruz's angry glare with an even one of his own. Allston was no less an asshole but he was smarter. "Come on, Cruz."

Cruz shrugged him off. "What are you doing here, O'Conner? Waiting for your ride? Catching a little on the side from her? Or are you expecting a little extra from Toretto?"

"I'm here to keep assholes like you from hassling her," Brian said flatly. "Where's the warrant, Cruz? Consider me a citizen's advocate."

"You…Allston," Mia said coming with the cordless. "He wants to talk to you."

Brian reached out for the phone rather than have Mia come any closer, but he only passed it on.

"Allston." Scott looked pained and annoyed, glaring at Brian but Brian only smirked. "Yes, sir. Probable cause would be…O'Conner's here."

"Oh, that's truly weak," Brian whispered at him.

"No sir. We haven't seen anyone else, nor did the night shift report--No, sir. No…yes, sir. We'll inform Ms. Toretto that she has the right to file a complaint, sir. Yes, sir. Right now, sir," he said and pulled the phone from his ear and handed it back to Brian. "We're going, Cruz. Now," Allston said and pulled at his partner's shoulder. "Tanner's on his way."

Cruz resisted and Allston pulled at him. Cruz took a step back and then came forward again, jabbing a finger into Brian's chest. "Not done, by a long shot, pretty boy. You're dirty -- it's only gonna take time to prove it and then that ass of yours will be free to whatever con wants it, a cuatro patas instead of using it to pay off whatever that faggot Tanner or your new boyfriend have on you. Count on it, bujarron."

Alston pulled him back then, with a little more force. Brian watched until they were off the porch before he shut the door, then sat down on the bottom step, belatedly realizing he was still holding the phone. He clicked it off and let it dangle between his fingers.

He was startled when Mia took it from him. "Those…you know them."

"Pride of the LAPD," Brian said. "Yeah. Went to the academy with Cruz."

She took another moment, staring out the small window before turning back to face him, studying him. "Did they do that?" she asked gesturing vaguely toward him, his face.

Brian nodded. "I don't think they'll hassle you again," he said. "Tanner…he's okay." Mia only nodded, her gaze slipping away from him, then back.

She really was smart and Brian found himself holding his breath, afraid of what she might have guessed, what she might think, what she might say. After a moment though, she moved away. "I'm going to make coffee…get some breakfast." It wasn't exactly an invitation, but at the moment Brian wasn't sure he was up to another confrontation.

"I'll…be down in a minute. If Tanner's coming, I should at least grab a shower."

Mia didn't say anything, only hung up the phone and disappeared into the back of the house.

Brian hauled himself up, acknowledging his cowardice. He was going to be punished for that for sure, and really soon, he thought staring up the stairs. His new nemesis.

As before, the shower helped a lot. Helped ease the aches, made him feel more or less human. Shaving was interesting. Taking off the fuzz made the bruising on his jaw and around his eye look more stark. He managed jeans this time, the loosest pair he owned, then checked again for anything he might need beside his wallet and keys because he was not climbing the stairs again until tonight if he could help it.

Mia was still in the kitchen, a mug of coffee and toast on the table, and Brian helped himself to the coffee. He could eat too. "Do you need -- should I buy some groceries or something?" he asked.

"Just get what you want…what we don't eat I'll have to give or throw away," she said. "That cop -- Tanner -- why is he coming here?"

Brian found the bread, and popped a couple of slices in the toaster. There was cheese too: he'd be good -- a far healthier breakfast than he usually ate. "I called him yesterday, to tell him about the Trans. I didn't say that -- only that I had some information. I don't know how it will play."

"I don't want to talk to him."

Brian faced her, leaning against the counter. "Okay. I'll try to keep it short," he said. Mia wasn't looking at him. She'd pulled her hair back, t-shirt and jeans familiar to him, but a Mia that wasn't smiling, that felt wrong and strange.

"Can he do anything about them?"

He pushed off and pulled the chair out. "I don't know. There's been some kind of investigation on the Trans for as long as I've been on the force. Keep an eye on them, and really, that's all we want."

Mia shook her head. "I meant the…those two assholes."

His toast popped up and he took advantage of the distraction, not sure where this was going -- or if he wanted it to go there. "Maybe. I don't think they'll do anything, Mia. Their beef is with me. I mean, yeah, they'd love to be the ones to bring Dom in, but mostly, they are just pissed off at me."

"Because you let him go."

There was way more to it than that, especially where Cruz was concerned, but Brian only nodded, bringing his toast and cheese back to the table and pulling the crusts off his bread. "Because I chose someone else over them, over that team, the brotherhood. It's not that different than your team or a gang. Not as far as loyalty goes."

He waited, wondering if she would push it further but she didn't, only watched him eat for a moment then got up. "I need to find a moving company or storage. Talk to Nina."

"Let me finish and I'll help…do whatever."

She gave him a tight, tiny smile. "Don't worry. I'm planning on taking you up on that."

He didn't rush through his meal, but he was just as glad not to have to answer any more of Mia's questions. He did clear the dishes away, trying to get some order back in the kitchen. Even before he was done, Mia called him.

"That detective is here," was all she said. "I'm going upstairs." She almost ran up the steps and Brian could only ease her discomfort a little, stepping out on the porch to meet Tanner. Tanner looked much as he always did, although he'd shed the suit coat. Tinted sunglasses obscured his eyes; his expression was carefully neutral.

"You have something you want to tell me?"

"You could have just called."

"I wanted to make sure I didn't need to call an ambulance this time. You look like you could use one." Tanner was cool, distant and Brian took it for what it was.

"I'll live. Something you might want to know, should know. Mia says she thought she saw someone following her. Not our -- your people. Asians." He said.

"She's a pretty girl," Tanner started.

"Yeah, she is. You get anything out of Lance yet?"

"Like a confession? Noooo…" he said, mocking Brian a little. "We can match his prints to the gun we found near the crash, but we won't know if it was him or Johnny who actually killed that unfortunate young man until forensics comes back."

"Jesse."

"Yes, Jesse. So, you think it won't end there?" Tanner asked coming up the last step to lean on the porch support.

"I don't know. I didn't see them, but given that they came after Jesse with artillery because he wouldn't give up on a damn pink slip, it does make me wonder what having one of their own killed might prompt them to do."

"Why not come after you then, instead of Toretto's sister?"

"Sergeant…" Brian was annoyed but it took him a moment to recognize the pattern. Tanner wasn't one to give up a lot of information, he'd always rather Brian figured it out for himself. To give him motivation or cause. This was no different and Tanner didn't know he was lying through his teeth -- yet. Means justifying the ends. "Because as far as I know, no one knows it was me. Lance didn't see it, and I doubt any of them could manage to find, much less talk to the people who did see it. And their beef may have been with Jesse, but he works for Dom and Dom and Johnny Tran didn't get along so well. I'm just saying…they took Jesse out in broad daylight on a residential street. Mia goes to school or to the grocery store…they might not care who they hit next time."

"So, you think a little, what? Extra protection?"

"No, sir…just a warning. The guys you've got watching her know to look for Dom. They might just want to look for anyone else hanging around."

"Like you? What are you doing here, Brian?" Tanner asked

"What I said. Trying to help… I didn't expect I'd have to help her clean house, but your guys were a little excessive, Sarge. City's going to end up paying a lot in damages if they aren't careful."

"You know she can lodge a complaint."

"I'll tell her to add it to the list of things already on her plate."

Tanner pulled his glasses off and regarded Brian steadily. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

Brian nodded. "Pretty much. Like I said, you could have called."

"I see. Just tell me one, thing, Brian. Is this worth it? Whatever it is you're doing. Is it worth it? Because I'd like to know. And I think I deserve to know, since right now, I'm pretty much the only reason you aren't in jail, even as just a witness."

Brian knew it. He still wasn't sure why Tanner had argued for him. It was his career on the line just as much as Brian's, but he had.

"Is it his sister? Is it Mia. Is that why you are here?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm here, for Mia."

Tanner wasn't buying it, not for a second. Technically it was true, but of all the lies he had told, that one rang the most hollow, even for Brian.

And Tanner looked disappointed, like he kept thinking that any minute now Brian was going come to his senses…or something. Maybe make good on the investment of time and energy Tanner had put into him.

The glasses went back on. "I'll register your concerns with the investigators doing the follow up," he said and descend the steps.

"Tanner," Brian said because this was unfinished too. Harder than he thought to stop viewing Tanner as a friend. "Mia's leaving…they're all gone. So she's moving to San Diego. End of the week. You told me not to leave town, but...I'm going with her. Make sure she gets settled. I can…let you know where we are."

There was a long hesitation, and then Tanner smiled, amused, a little bit sharkish, but he nodded. "All right. You do that. Let me know how you are doing."

"I will and…thanks. Thank you…"

Tanner only nodded and headed back to his car.

Oh, shit. Dom was going to kill him, if Mia didn't beat him to it.

Abruptly, Brian sat down on the steps and dropped his head in his hands.

He didn't know what he was doing any longer. Was it worth it? Without Dom here, he wasn't so sure. And even so, he couldn't see himself turning him in. But there was nothing there either. Not really. Not with Dom, not with Mia.

He could finish this though. Do right by Mia as much as he could. Get her where she needed to be which was closer to Dom and then he could…would…

What? Hang around in Baja or Ensenada with Dom and his crew, what was left of his team, including Letty, and spend money from the truck heists? Maybe do a little desert racing? It wasn't a plan or a goal, it was what Dom had said -- a vacation.

Something he would probably need, just before he got on with the rest of his life. Wherever that took him, but right now…it would be as far away from California and Dominic Toretto as he could manage.

He finally got up and went back in to help Mia try to salvage something from her house and her life. It seemed only fair that one of them should be able to salvage something.

### Part Twelve:

  
_  
"Somewhere between Heaven and Hell,  
the soul knows where it's been.  
Lay me down and maybe I will be whole again."  
\-- Crosby &amp; Nash "Lay Me Down."  
_

The border crossing was just as stomach churning and as much a non-event as Dom had said. They did check, poked their heads into his back seat, had him open the trunk, checked registration.

Got distracted by a bunch of people making some kind of fuss coming back from the other side. When he was waved through, all Dom could do was say thank God for tourists, or for lax border guards, or that maybe he looked a little different than he had when he got out of Lompoc and any pictures circulating probably didn't look much like him. He'd had hair then and a mustache, trying to look older.

A couple of hours later and he was cruising into San Felipe. It was kind of like visiting a ghost town this time of year, too hot for most tourists, the shrimp boats hadn't yet put into the Sea of Cortez. Flat land and scrub were the only things of interest on the road.

He bypassed the town as much as possible but his choice of roads was kind of limited as he made his way well past the far more tourist-accommodating structures to the very south edge of town. Not exactly tourist cabanas, but power poles were still edging the road and he slowed as the asphalt gave way to packed sand and gravel, and eventually to a broad tract that had four or five house on it, separated by acres of land. It was the furthest extent of San Felipe's limited power grid. Anything beyond it required generators and outhouses.

As houses went, it wasn't all that impressive, but it did indeed have running water and a septic tank. It was long and low with an overhang all along the front. Cinder block and brick and adobe, big windows, all arranged to allow maximum ventilation to the interior.

Tucked back under a dangerously sloping lean-to shed was the Civic, Leon's civic, looking far less the performance car it was but still probably years newer and worth several thousand dollars more than anything native to the area.

And there was Leon, coming warily out on the porch overhang until he recognized Dom. He grinned and waved and ducked back into the house. By the time Dom parked, he was back again, shifting his weight foot to foot like a kid waiting for permission to go to the bathroom.

"Dom...man…we were starting to freak a little. You took your time. You doing okay? You look like shit, man."

Leon wasn't usually such a motor mouth but Dom grinned anyway and wrapped his arm around all Leon's long sinewy strength and then patted his cheek. "Had things that had to be taken care of."

"Where's everybody? The other's coming down?"

They knew next to nothing Dom realized. Almost as little as he knew. All Mia knew was that they'd gotten here, that Letty had done a check in with her folks. But they didn't know about Vince, not about Jesse. Or Leon didn't.

"Letty?" Dom called out because he didn't want to do this more than once. He didn't want to do it at all.

"I'll get your stuff," Leon said and gave them some space.

She was hanging back in the doorway, looking not like Letty at all. Her face was still marked up, cuts and scrapes healing but leaving an ugly patchwork of bruises that ranged from black to yellow all the way up to her hairline. When she did move, it was obviously with some pain. Not that she'd say anything.

She didn't come to him. She stayed in the shade, looking at him with an expression that was somewhere between angry and hurt and overall weary. This was not his vibrant, mouthy Letty at all. This was a dog someone had kicked too often.

So he went to her. She looked at him defiantly but didn't pull away when he used his fingertips to lightly touch the scabs along her brow and cheek. "How you doing, baby?" he asked.

"I'm fine. How you doing, Dom?" she said, flat and angry. Hard to say if she'd been in this kind of temper for the last couple of days or if it was just him showing up that had set it off. "You have a nice trip down?" Oh, yeah, she was on a simmer. And it was gonna be a helluva boil over when it hit. Letty's temper was just as explosive as his own, but where Dom's was flash fast, Letty had hers trained to a slow build and a long after burn. The biggest difference was that she didn't hold onto it after it was over.

"It had some detours," he said and bent his head. She didn't avoid his kiss either, but she didn't exactly welcome him home, barely acknowledged it until the end when she sank her teeth into his lip. A warning only.

"We thought maybe you'd been picked up, brother," Leon said. He had Dom's bag. Brian's actually, another soft side that was more empty than full. Dom took it from him. There was more, cash mostly, under the wheel well. "You heard anything about Vince? Where's Jesse?"

Dom closed his eyes briefly. "We got anything to drink?" he asked and let his arm slide around Letty's shoulders. She leaned into him a little, but as much from injury as desire. She was limping, badly. "You seen a doctor?"

"In town," she said, pulling away from him to go to the little rickety table that was serving as their bar. The inside of the house -- bungalow -- was cool and dark one big open space in the front that served as living room, dining room and kitchen, on the back side were four bedrooms, small but big enough for double beds and dressers, with windows to catch the cross breeze. The only interior door led to the bathroom, dead center. Their mark was all over it. Other than the cars, it was the only piece of property on the planet that actually had Dom's name on the property lease. They hadn't quite built it from scratch but it was close.

"Dom, where's Vince and Jesse?" Leon asked again, impatient for an answer. But he handed Dom a glass, clear liquid in it, the alcohol fumes promising to deaden his taste buds and pretty much anything else he might be feeling. Letty eased herself down onto the sofa -- a hotel cast off as was most of the furniture -- all solid but out of date.

Dom took a healthy swallow and didn't sit with her. "Vince is still holding his own in the hospital. Can't get to him. Mia can't either. She was going to call his mother. If there's anything, she'll call. Jesse…Jesse's dead."

That was easy. Easy if the punch in his gut feeling had less to with alcohol than saying it out loud like that. Easy if the same gut-punched look that crossed both their faces didn't count.

"Dead? He's dead?" Letty said and shoved her way up. "How? How is he dead?" she demanded.

"When did he-- was it the cops?" Leon asked looking bewildered. "Oh shit…he wasn't even there!"

"It wasn't the cops. It was the Trans over the fucking car," Dom said. "I went…I was going to hunt for him, but he showed up…and they just…Nothing, no warning, just did a drive by. Jesse was just…"

Standing there, begging Dom to help him, almost crying, so shaken he couldn't move. He'd had those seconds…those seconds when the rumbling of engines he knew, he knew like some kind of recurring nightmare, were moving in. Face to face with Brian and angry and Death was knocking on his front door for the second time in the same day. He felt hands on his face, rough thumbs over his cheeks and he felt like he might shake apart, might just break.

Don't be gentle, Letty, Not now. Not here, not over this, but all that came out was "Don't--" She wasn't listening to him, she never did. He could take Mia's tears and soothe them, he could take Brian's flat, cold laying out of the facts, but he couldn't take Letty of all people being gentle with him, being kind. He wanted her anger, Brian's, Mia's, Leon's , everyone's, to feed his own. To keep it sharp and bright, so sharp he could cut himself with it over and over so he wouldn't forget.

Letty didn't cry. Not like Mia; who didn't cry easily. He had nothing to give back to her. "You were right. Both of you were right…"

There was a bottle suddenly in his hand and the sofa behind his legs, and he sat because otherwise Letty would fall, from pushing him. He took a long pull from the tequila and stared at the floor, wrapped a hand around Letty's thigh, and looked up only to see Leon sitting on the floor in front of him: shocked, stunned, nowhere to put his own gaze.

Dom handed him the bottle. Leon drank and passed it to Letty. And around again. None of them said anything. The bottle was both the toast and the eulogy.

It took a long time for Dom to actually be able to find words again. To actually appreciate the dig of Letty's fingernails into his arm as he told them what he knew, most of it, which, when laid out, was pitifully little. "Lance is down…out for the count. The cops have him and if there's any justice, he'll get nailed for killing Jesse. Brian took out Johnny."

"Brian," Letty said. "Brian the fucking cop." She said it, but really there wasn't any anger there for him which was not so surprising. Letty's disdain for cops was a mix of distaste because they kept busting up her race time, and just a general attitude of not wanting to see one unless she needed one. She hated them because Dom did, because Vince did, her brothers.

"Yeah, Brian the cop. Be glad, mia bella, or you'd be enjoying this little vacation spot with Leon for a long time. He's looking out for Mia."

"I'm sure she's thrilled," Letty said and Dom couldn't be sure if she were being serious or sarcastic. "But she's coming right?"

"San Diego. I need to call her. Give me the rest. You saw a doctor?"

"At St. James," Letty said, but they had little to tell him. After dropping Dom and Mia off, they hadn't stopped really. Long enough for Leon to make sure Letty didn't need a doctor immediately, but she was banged up, bruised, hip wrenched and stiff. She'd slept most of the trip. They grabbed cash, Leon stopped and got them clothes and water before they crossed the border. No one had been looking for them, really, not yet, not then. She'd called home from Mexicali, left a message for Mia and Dom, and they kept driving. Leon had dropped her at the hospital, loaded up on provisions and then collected her to make it here.

The bottle was nearly empty. Leon, clever man that he was, offered to go for more and Dom let him.

"We can't leave Vince up there."

"I'm open to suggestions, girl. We can't exactly bust him out."

"We can't let him take the fall for all of us."

And he would. Dom knew it, Letty knew it. "What do you want me to do? Take his place?"

Letty pulled back, folding her arms across her chest and sinking back against the cushions. "This is so fucked. This is…"

She was crying again: not sobbing, just tears, angry ones, on her cheeks. He couldn't disagree though and wasn't angry enough or cruel enough to point out that the risk had always been there. But he offered his hand and after a moment, she took it and Dom stretched out as much as he could, pulling her with him, trying to adjust for his arm and her leg. He didn't make promises he couldn't keep and she wouldn't believe anyway.

Dawn at sea, dusk at night, the shadows got longer. Leon had brought back food along with booze, but dinner was overall quiet as the reunion had been. Shock, Dom supposed, recognizing his own, even though he'd been unable to think of anything else for days. Now though, there was nothing he could do, nothing to be done from here.

Talking to Mia helped a little because she was, without a doubt, very glad that he was not there. That felt really strange, that his sister would be happy he was gone. She didn't need him. Not the way she had as a kid. She loved him, she wanted to be with him, but she didn't need him. Even when all the crap settling on her shoulders was his fault. She was much stronger than he was, he realized, and wondered that he'd never really noticed before. She'd seemed so glad to have him back after prison, but that was affection, family.

But he had to wonder if she hadn't been kind of expecting it, that at some point, she'd have to do it on her own like she had when Dom was in prison. History repeating. Did she worry that he'd follow their father? Dom could say it, that he'd rather go out that way than go back to jail, but for Mia…

Brian was right. None of them had the luxury of what ifs. Dom least of all. He also didn't have anything to do other than worry and kick himself.

And Brian wasn't here to snap him out of it. Smart ass. He rubbed at his jaw and watched the sun set over the mountains. It was annoying the way Brian's words lingered in his brain. It was annoying and aggravatingly humbling to know that Brian was doing what he should be doing, taking care of his team, his family. He hadn't wanted to ask Brian to step in and he hadn't had to. He just did.

"You coming to bed?" Letty was there, sipping a beer, twilight making the marks on her face less stark. He wrapped an arm around her neck and kissed the top of her head.

"Kinda early."

"Kinda tired," she said but didn't seem inclined to move much. He stole her beer and her small hand slid under his t-shirt, stroking across his stomach. There were no answers in Letty's eyes, but there was comfort, familiarity. Leon was prowling the house. He'd probably go out, into town. Without Jesse or Vince, he had to be feeling the third wheel, but he could find himself a girl in San Felipe.

Dom couldn't even be sure he'd stay. The team was breaking up, broken up. All the money in the trunk of Dom's car couldn't put it back together.

Letty's fingers teased at the waist band of his pants, and Dom swung her around, one armed, staring down into her face. She met his gaze evenly, smiling a little, or maybe she was thinking less than flattering things. They'd never talked about what happened when they got this far -- well not this exactly, but the last job. Money, yeah, they had it. But they were supposed to be free enough to enjoy it. More cars, bigger garage, maybe find a way to finance their own pro team. His dreams, idle thoughts. Letty was along for the ride, the thrill, but life was just starting for her. She wasn't ready to have to make choices that would play out over years instead of hours or days. She wasn't stupid by a long shot, but settled and Letty would seem like an oxymoron. She wanted to make a splash, make her mark, not suddenly find herself with a husband and kids and a life that was the same day to day before she even knew how different it could be.

Letty pushed up and Dom didn't argue with her, feeling her mouth under his, her pushing him back, giving him a reason to quit staring at the sunset. But after this, what did she want? San Felipe was too small and lazy for Letty and they hadn't ever talked about too far in the future. Maybe because Letty was too young to think anything but that life would go on forever, and Dom was finally to the point where he realized that it was always going to be too short.

She was insistent and no matter what Dom might be thinking or feeling, he really hadn't ever been able to say no to Letty after the first time she said yes. She could be jealous and demanding, command his attention, but she'd bridle at the first hint that she needed anybody taking care of her. No fear. Not even now.

It was awkward as hell because neither Dom's arm nor her leg would let either of them be as energetic as they could be. Afterward, when Letty was curled up on her side and Dom around her back, sweat drying on their skin, did he even think about what it would be like without her constantly in his life. He didn't summon the thought, it just came. Not so much what if, as trying to see the consequences.

This was not the plan. Not with only half of them here, one dead, one locked up if he was still alive and Mia separated from Dom by more than just miles. Not with Brian out there like some kind of satellite in a weird orbit around them all.

Around him.

Couldn't avoid that thought either and Dom eased himself off the bed, soothing Letty back to sleep while he hunted up his pants and shoes. Be his luck to step on a damn scorpion.

The house was dark and he wasn't sure if Leon was back or not, but the beer in the refrigerator was cold, the night clear.

The Civic was there and Dom listened, guessing the intermittent rumble he heard was Leon snoring in the far bedroom --as far away from Dom and Letty as he could manage. Not that they'd been particularly loud, but they'd been known to be.

He tested his arm, finding a little more freedom of movement. The doc had given Letty some kind of salve for her hip and she'd shared, gentle like she didn't usually like to be. It had helped and he'd returned the favor.

The pressure was off. He should feel relieved. Except it wasn't and he didn't. It was like that weird Disney movie, except instead of a mother and daughter or father and son changing places, he and Brian had. Like Brian handing him the keys had caused some fundamental shift in the universe. It should be him there, dealing with the fallout, facing the music.

I'm not running. Only he was. It didn't matter that they all wanted him too. Nobody wanted to see him in jail and God knew he didn't want to go back.

He squatted down, put his back to the rough post on the porch and rubbed at his head for a moment before staring out in the darkness, eyes narrowed.

End of the quarter mile. End of freedom. He didn't think Brian had meant that but it was true. Yeah, he could still run an engine flat out, run it until the tires melted, but this track was endless and not in a good way. There was a racing circuit down here, but how long before he brought too much attention to himself? They could blow the cash and live like kings anywhere in Mexico. Make this home. People moved on all the time. Grew up, faced life, raised families.

He had a family, whether he raised it or not. Half blood, half chosen, himself as the head. He'd never really meant for it to happen but he hadn't exactly stopped it. In prison he'd looked out only for himself. Outside it was a relief not to have to and to be able to actually… to be part of something that didn't seem to have a price, that wasn't part of a deal. It had never seemed that way until now.

It wasn't enough to have kids ten years his junior vie to race him on the streets of LA. It felt good, yeah, to have that kind of influence, to get some glimpse of what maybe his life could have been. Not enough though. Not enough risk, not enough tempting fate.

Not enough speed to escape the ghosts that haunted him. Like Kenny Linder. He'd had two years to really come to terms with what he had done. He hadn't killed Linder but he'd robbed him of any kind of normal life. Racing was dangerous, and deliberate or not, he doubted seriously if Linder had meant to kill his father. He'd wanted to win. He'd never know because Linder couldn't remember it. Couldn't remember much of anything. Couldn't drive, couldn't ever live on his own again.

Jesse too now, maybe, to haunt him. Please help me. I don't know what I'm doing.

Me either, Jesse. Me either. His eyes burned and he squeezed them shut.

Choices, Brian said. Well, Dom had tons of them. He could stay here and live comfortably if a little primitively, or move to a bigger city. Eventually the heat would wear off, maybe enough to go back. What was the statute of limitation of a car-jacking? Was it higher if the vehicle was bigger? Aggravated assault -- there was no statute of limitations probably. See if Letty would stay, if Leon would…he couldn't see it. Not for long. Keep up with Mia -- let her slip across the border, once a month and on holidays. Maybe build a house to replace the one he was forcing her to give up until, when? When she finally met someone, had a husband, kids of her own. Kids of his own? Did he want that for himself? He didn't even know.

You couldn't do much living a quarter mile or ten seconds at a time.

On the other side of that was prison. To go back, to turn himself in. Face charges, do time again.

The night was cool but just the thought of it made him sweat. That would be two felonies. He'd be ready for retirement by the time he got out. He'd miss his whole life.

And Vince, Holy Mary…Letty was right, to let him take the fall was wrong. Dom wouldn't even fault him if he gave evidence to get a reduction in sentence. Assuming he was alive, that he hadn't lost an arm or a kidney or too much blood.

"Hey, Dom?"

He almost jumped out of his skin. "Shit…Leon."

"Sorry, man," Leon said, keeping his voice low. "What's the deal? You okay? Need something…we got some drugs for Letty." He still sounded half drunk, but sometimes, sometimes Leon made more sense when he was drunk. Like mostly he didn't have a lot to say, or not a lot that really meant anything. But tanked, he had all those thoughts that just got let loose.

"No…no, Leon. I'm fine. Just thinking. Thanks. I'm okay."

"You worrying about Mia?"

Dom smiled into the darkness and slid down, both of them sitting on the foot high rise of the porch. Sometimes he felt like he'd known Leon as long as Vince. "Yeah. A little. Vince too."

Leon nodded. "Yeah…that sucks. For Vince. Better than dead though. Better than Jesse."

"You think so?" Dom said, angry suddenly.

"Well, yeah. Jeez, Dom. He's gone. We can't get him back. Vince though. Vince we can get back. We got you back."

His anger fizzled out. He didn't know if Leon was clueless or brilliant. No, what Leon was, was uncomplicated.

"None of us wanted to be dead. But getting caught…" Leon shrugged.

"Did you think we'd get caught?"

"No. No, man…I thought we'd be dead."

It took a minute to sink in and Dom looked at him. "Dead. Then what were you doing it for?"

Leon thought about that for a minute. A long minute. "It was fun. Cool. Glad it was Vince who wanted to jump on the truck, though. I'd have been scared shitless. Even with you driving. You want a beer?"

"Sure…yeah. That would be good," Dom said, still wrapping his brain around what Leon was saying. Was Leon serious? He had to be. No reason to think otherwise.

He came back and dropped a cold bottle into Dom's hand. "You got plans, Leon?"

Scratching at his jaw, Leon shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it. Just getting here…waiting for you. See what you were gonna do. We could open a shop here. Maybe learn to fix boat engines as well as cars."

Uncomplicated. "Yeah, maybe." Leon could.

"I'm gonna miss Jesse though," Leon said, taking a swig of his brew then picking at the label. "One of a kind. And Brian took out Johnny? Good for him. He's good…he's okay. You know, for a cop," Leon added quickly as if not acknowledging the fact would be some kind of breach of the rules.

"He's okay," Dom agreed.

"I think Jesse was a little sweet on him," Leon said and Dom almost dropped his beer.

"What?"

"I mean…not really 'sweet' on him. But he liked him. Thought he was be-yoo-ti-ful," Leon chuckled. "Jesse liked pretty things. Cars, girls, guys, clothes…cakes."

Jesse had all the taste in women of a blind man but Dom was hung on something else. "Cakes…"

"Yeah, those kind of fancy ones…you know, like Mia made for his birthday with all the icing and the little car thing. Detailing…like when he was fancying up that damn Volkswagen. I'd a never thought he could make it look so good. Fucking Tran. He was just messing with him. The jerk…he knew…he just wanted to make him look bad. Feel bad. 'cause you know…Jesse did those bikes good too. Tran was just a shit -- couldn't handle it. Got what he deserved. But you know...you know, I thought you'd a done it."

"Done what?"

"Killed him," Leon said and lifted his hand with his beer and made a gun with his fingers. "Kthwow…nailed him. Right between his slanty eyes. Prick. He didn't have to kill Jesse. He coulda just scared him."

Jesse had been scared. He'd known what would happen…maybe not ending up dead, but he'd lost that race. Dom sipped at his beer and didn't blame Jesse. You couldn't. because Jesse had a tendency to freak, to get overexcited. But a race was a race and a race for pink slips…always risky. Jesse should have come to him, but he hadn't.

"Tried to tell him…" Leon mumbled. "Stupid Tran…I'm glad Brian iced him."

And damn near gotten himself iced as well. The Supra hadn't looked so great when Dom ditched her. A bullet hitting the Nos tanks...there wouldn't have been enough left of Brian to bury.

Had Brian ever killed anyone before? Dom didn't know. He hadn't asked.

He smiled and finished his beer. "He was sweet on Brian, huh?"

"Well," Leon chuckled again. "Yeah, kinda…not that way, but yeah. I mean that was a great car. You knew Jesse liked you when he designed you a great car."

"Yeah," Dom said. Jesse had designed them all, down to the last nut.

"You think, maybe, God needed a really good mechanic?" Leon asked, looking serious. Well as serious as he could while having trouble sitting up.

"Could be," Dom said. "You, my brother, are really trashed."

"I know," Leon said and he sounded pretty happy about it. "Didn't want to get messed up before. You know…with Letty and all. But, you're here now so…it was okay. It's okay, right, Dominic?"

Dom reached up and rubbed Leon's head then hooked and elbow around his neck and gave him a quick hug. "Yeah, Leon. It's okay. You did good with Letty. You totally deserve the hangover you're gonna have tomorrow."

Leon seemed pretty happy about that as well.

Not much later, Dom steered Leon back to bed, and eased himself back into the room he was sharing with Letty. She'd taken up more space, more than her small frame seemed capable of, the curve of her back and ass were painted silver, smooth. If he touched her she'd be warm, soft, like her body was in direct defiance of her personality. She climbed on top of him and his bones melted, she'd fight him over details like a lawyer. They'd rattled windows both with their fights and their lovemaking. What she wanted from Dom, she demanded as her right. Sometimes, it seemed like fighting and fucking was all they did do -- but it was familiar. And they never fought unless they knew neither would give ground.

Brian too. But what Brian demanded of him was never about Brian, it seemed, it was all about Dom. Or not like with Letty.

Even comparing the two of them freaked him out a little but it gnawed at him, worried him like a bad tooth. Not the same...what he felt was not the same. But there was Brian, not giving an inch. Letty would fight for Dom or beside him with her last breath. He didn't doubt it. Brian seemed to be fighting for him with every breath. And there was nothing in it for him.

Nothing. Nothing he could get, nothing he thought he could get.

He shed his pants and got back into bed, laying his hands on Letty even though it would probably wake her. Soft curved flesh, not muscle and power and heat. But Letty was hot too. She stirred, moved under his hand like a cat and Dom snatched his hand back swallowing, thickly.

Maybe in his dreams he could wade through that, but wide awake? Brian was like a drug – no, more like an infection. Right now he owed Brian something, a lot, maybe. He was going to have to settle for cash.

Like a cheap whore, or an expensive one. He'd probably get a mouthful of fist for even offering it. That settled him a little, made him smile. No arguments there or shouting. Brian could be direct when he wanted to be.

He shifted back, his hand stroking once more over Letty, from shoulder to hip and she rolled into him, exposing the curve of her breast, dark hair spilling across her shoulders. Eyes glittering and open in the darkness. She pushed him back a little, grabbed his hand and pushed it between her legs. "If you're not going to sleep, be useful," she said and he could see her teeth, gleaming and white, grinning at him, challenging him. He moved his fingers, moved his body and wiped that smile right off her face.

 

### Part Thirteen:

_ Well maybe there's a God above,  
But all I've ever learned from love,  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya  
Well it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah ~ Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen  
_

Mia hadn't been kidding. She worked Brian like a dog for the next two days, even after Nina Gutierrez showed up. Admittedly, being worked like a dog wasn't that bad, but he did a lot of fetching and more moving of furniture than was probably wise. There were a lot of trips to the curbside garbage containers -- during which Brian discovered that coming up the slope of the driveway was not actually any less painful than climbing stairs, but by the end of the second day the dull ache in his thighs and hips and yeah, his crotch, had become like so much background noise. But the house looked more like a home rather than the aftermath of a tornado. He hauled laundry outside for Nina when the dryer was too full and helped her hang up sheets. Nina's English was far better than Brian's Spanish, and Mia's Spanish better than Brian's by a long stretch. Mostly he listened to them talk and did what they told him to. And he ate Nina's empanadas, and her tamales, which made Nina smile broadly and Mia roll her eyes and fight back a grin.

On the first day, he went with Mia to UCLA, to hang out in the car while she pulled herself out of her classes and arranged to have her transcripts sent to the University of San Diego pending her application there. He did his best to get information on Vince, but could only discover that he was stable, under guard, but Mia was able to get more information from Vince's family. She hadn't looked happy, because no doubt Mrs. Feraud gave her an earful. And Jesse was a dead end in more ways than one.

The apartment where Jesse's mother lived and where Jesse lived when he wasn't with Dom was only a step above a cardboard box under the freeway. It was the kind of poverty-ridden area Brian had hated visiting as a patrolman, the air so thick with despair and hopelessness and helpless anger, you could taste it. Alice Packer was definitely seeking any and all ways to escape it. She wasn't actually all that old after you got past that badly bleached hair and dull look in her eyes. The apartment reeked of pot and Brian wouldn't even have needed a search warrant to find evidence of harder substances.

Finding Dom must have been like a whole different kind of freedom for Jesse and if his mother had been doing drugs when she was pregnant at even a fraction of what she was now, well, it might explain a lot about Jesse's thwarted mechanical brilliance. She didn't recognize Mia, but she did seem to know Jesse was dead, but she wouldn't sign anything, her mouth kind of wandering around topics like needing to call the city about the garbage and then onto wondering if she'd won the lottery.

Mia didn't even try very hard and Brian couldn't blame her. He left Alice a hundred bucks with little doubt how she'd spend it. "I'll call…somebody. They can let his father know," Brian said as he and Mia got back in the car. She only nodded, but her gaze lingered on the decrepit building until it was out of sight.

The mood lingered until that evening when Dom called and Mia perked up a little. Brian took himself outside again, the illusion of privacy better than none at all. He was a little surprised when Dom asked to speak to him.

"Warned you about the phone, man," Brian said.

"You were the one who said coming to get me here would be too much trouble," Dom said. "How's it going?"

"It's going. Mia told you Vince is still hanging?"

"Yeah. Thanks for checking on him."

"How's your crew holding up?" Brian asked. He'd rather listen to Dom than actually say anything.

"Leon's good. He likes it down here. Letty's still hobbling around like an old woman and bitching about not having wheels of her own. How are you doing? Mia says you look better."

Did she? "Getting there. I wouldn't mind baking in the sun for a couple of days."

"Sun we have, Brian. I'll save you some." There was a long silence on the line before Dom huffed out a breath. "That's it. No lectures?"

"I'm all lectured out, Dom," Brian said and felt it, along with a twinge of anger. "We're doing what needs to be done. I can't see much further than that. You got a crystal ball you can look into while you're enjoying all that sunshine?"

"What, you're mad at me now?" Dom asked, almost like he wanted Brian to be, or was spoiling for a fight. Grief was fucking weird.

"No, Dom. What I am is tired," and pretty much alone, and not sure what the hell I'm doing. "I'm guessing you aren't going to be waiting at Mia's apartment door in SD."

"She's not expecting me to be -- and no, I hadn't planned on it. You think maybe I should? I thought you wanted me out of the country?"

No, I wanted you safe, you asshole. "Dom, could you do me a favor and wait to bust my chops until you see me, okay? You want to talk to Mia again?"

"No. Shit…Brian--" and the silence went on.

Uh huh. "We'll see you in a couple of days," Brian said but it was not really a promise, just a way to get off the phone.

When Dom called the next day he didn't ask to speak to Brian and Brian wasn't surprised.

On Thursday, in the middle of the afternoon, a huge and relatively unmarked truck pulled up to the curb along with three Hispanic men of varying ages, who unloaded a virtual Everest of empty boxes. Nina waved them in and set them to work as well, packing up china and dishware. Mia disappeared.

But not far and reinforced by a beer and Nina's excellent food, Brian took the stairs on again and won this time. Maybe it was a draw, but he didn't immediately need to sit down.

Mia's door was the only one closed and he hesitated before tapping lightly. "Mia? Mia, you okay?"

He heard her moving but she didn't say anything, not even "go away". It felt like an hour but it was probably only a minute or so before she opened the door, game face on. There were boxes lined up on her bed, her dresser and closet open, the top of the dresser cleared. "What do you want?"

To take this pain away. To make this better. Never in million years had he wanted to see that strained, vacant look on her face, he never wanted to be part of what put it there. "I was just…checking."

"I'm fine. Grab some boxes and pack up Dom's room, would you?" she said, and closed the door.

"Yeah…"

He hadn't brought up boxes, and unlike Mia, he really had no way to sort through Dom's things; didn't know if the man wanted all this, like the stack of magazines, or the box he found in the closet of small plastic model cars, some unassembled. A closet hobbyist. Who knew?

But he could and did empty drawers and pile things on the bed to make them easier to pack. It felt incredibly strange to go through another man's dresser, to discover that Dom was as neat in his bedroom as he was in his garage. Everything was sorted by style and color and Brian didn't know if it was actually Dom's doing or if Mia and Nina kept his clothing in such precise order.

Emptying the last dresser drawer, which seemed to be mostly clothes used for heavy cleaning or painting, Brian stopped and sucked in a breath as the feeling hit him, rolled over him, left him feeling a little sick. He'd never had to do it, not like this, but he'd purged his mother's presence from their house on his father's orders. Packed up what lingering bits of herself she'd left, put them away in the attic. The boxes were probably still there: pictures she'd picked out, clothing she'd left, vases of dried flowers. Even the patterned plates she'd picked up a K-mart only a few months before. It was like clearing up after somebody died.

That's what this felt like, and for Mia, how much worse would it be? Mia who'd already probably done some of this twice before. He looked up, seeing a smooth ceiling but wondered if there was more: her mother's things, her father's, packed away in the attic or the garage and forgotten but not dumped, not entirely.

He'd thought the redeeming fact in all of this was that Dom was still alive. But maybe it wasn't. Yeah, he lived and talked and breathed and there was no doubt Mia wanted it that way. Brian wanted it that way, but there'd been a death in the family anyway. Maybe the death of a family. At least for Mia.

The anger he felt had no target. Dom was gone, somewhere in Mexico, in Baja...far out of Brian's reach. First he'd been angry because Dom was being stupid and stubborn, now he was angry because everything Brian thought about Dom seemed to be coming unraveled: the sense of family, of Dom gathering people to him, extending his family to them, drawing Brian in until he wanted to be part of it so bad it hurt, the ache of it blinding him to everything else except saving some part of it -- it was all illusory. Sound and fumes.

This was no more "family" than his own had been.

He couldn't stay in Dom's room, with his things, his presence, any longer and he ducked out quickly, heading downstairs, out into the yard where he could breathe.

But not even there did it ease. The grill was still set up, the table. The garage stood open and empty. The Gutierrez men were moving furniture and boxes into the truck. If he could have, he would have jumped in his car and sped off, but it was blocked in by the truck. There were sheets hanging on the clothes line still, gently flapping. From the house he could hear raised voices, instructions given and taken. These people, these friends, did they even know why this was happening?

Did Dom understand what he had done?

He did. It only took the asking of the angry question to know it. Not what Dom wanted or expected, but yeah, he knew.

"Here." He jerked and looked around to find Mia watching him, holding out a beer. On the porch, the Gutierrez's were taking a little break too. He took the bottle and Mia passed him, walking into the garage. "Need to pack this all up and store it. Manuel will bring a car trailer by tomorrow. We can load your car on it. Leave mine. We'll have to bring the truck back. Can you drive a truck?"

"Yeah, I can drive a truck," Brian said, coming up beside her, looking into the garage with its tools and the years of collected memories. "God, Mia…this sucks and I'm sorry."

"It does suck. Massively," she said and sipped her own beer. "You know...this was like my day care," she said, moving further onto the garage. "Before Papa died, when he and Dom would be in here…I'd bring my school work and sit up there," she said pointing to a long bench on the far wall. "And do my homework while they worked on whatever car they had in here at the time." She turned around and faced him. "He's not perfect, Brian. He never was," she said. "But after Momma died, when Papa would go to work, it was Dom that got me ready for school, fixed my lunch, walked me there, before going to school himself. He's always been there for me, you know?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because if you're going to -- if you want to be part of this, you have to understand that. He likes you Brian, and that's…I meant it when I said he doesn't usually like people. He gets along with people, and they like him and he, he doesn't get it. He doesn't see it. He tries really hard not to care that much."

"Because of your dad?"

She shook her head. "More because of my mother, I think. Dad was…more the catalyst for all the anger he'd felt since Momma died."

"Lots of people had rotten childhoods, Mia. Not all of them become criminals," he said flatly.

"I didn't." She said it quietly, so quietly Brian almost missed it. "I didn't have a rotten childhood, even though my mother died. I missed her, and my father, but I had Dom. I had a good childhood. I had a brother who loved me and who I adored. I still do," she said and there was that flash in her eyes again, the one that put life back in her face and wiped it clear of sorrow or guilt or whatever. "He's a good man, Brian."

Brian didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure why Mia was telling him this now, or what she wanted from him in telling him this. "He's just got some bad habits," he tossed back at her.

"Some," she agreed. "So do you."

"Do I?"

"You lie a lot," she said. "And you have crummy friends."

Not anymore. He didn't say it though and he felt uncomfortable under her regard. She was studying him, like she could read his mind. "You put someone on a pedestal and eventually they're gonna fall off or get knocked off, " she said.

"You learn that in college?"

"No. I learned that from my brother," she said and came to him again. Very lightly she touched his lip and his face. "You should put some ice on that tonight, get the rest of the swelling down." She gave him a little push. "I'll put Dom's stuff in boxes if you'll load up the tool cabinets in here. I'm not taking it all. I won't have any place to store it."

"Do we need to find storage place in San Diego while you hunt for an apartment?"

She shook her head. "I've already called. Found a two bedroom apartment near the university. Most of the furniture I'm leaving. Rosa will take care of it and they won't have to buy new, but Dom will want his tools. He'll have to buy a new generator. I'm not hauling it down there," she said glancing at the behemoth in the corner.

She headed back to the house and Brian watched her, feeling a bit surreal. He thought maybe, just maybe, he'd been forgiven. But he wasn't sure.

Or maybe she was just trying to tell him it was a waste of time to be angry about Dom being who he was. Dom hadn't changed here, Brian had.

They worked on loading the truck until it was dark and then locked it up, leaving it on the street but out of the driveway. Standing with Mia to watch the entire Gutierrez clan climb into two pickup trucks, Brian also caught sight of the change in shifts for the surveillance. He wasn't sure if Allston and Cruz had been pulled. He'd been too busy to notice or care. Physically he was beat and sore, but in truth, he actually felt more like himself, sleep and exercise that wasn't horribly strenuous had eased the worst of it. He still looked like a living punching bag, but he could honestly say he felt better than he looked. Papa Gutierrez and his boys had taken one look at him and refused to let him lift anything heavier than a table lamp -- although Brian suspected Nina had something to do with it. Maybe Mia too.

Mia impressed the hell out of him, which made being here all the more bittersweet and ironic. She had a spent a good deal of time listing what was left in the house for Nina's daughter and her husband to use, what they could outright have and what Mia might want to reclaim at one point. At dinner Santos and Rosa had settled down and she'd gone over the market inventory. Rosa was small and intense, her husband far more outgoing, but both of them seemed excited about --well, running a business. It would still belong to Mia, but for all intents and purposes, it was theirs now.

Mia had stopped being openly hostile, but Brian might have preferred it. She was still giving him odd looks now and then, like something didn't add up for her, but she wasn't talking much, like it took all she had to try and smooth things over between he and Dom. Kind of made him wonder if she was just the peacekeeper by default for the whole team.

When they hit the beds that night there wasn't much left. Brian had his bag on the floor. The last things to be packed in the morning would be the beds. Load up and head out. There was no doubt that Mia would have to make trips back, but she had the time. She wouldn't be able to re-enroll in college before the next semester anyway.

A few days to get her settled, and after that, Brian didn't know. He supposed the invitation to Baja was still on the table but he hadn't decided if he should take it. He probably would, if only because -- well, if he was going to ditch Dom after all this, he should have the guts to say it to his face. But the whole tangled mess of it made it impossible to sleep

He was a little surprised when he saw her standing in his the doorway, backlit from the bathroom light. "Can't sleep?" he asked her. The house was dead quiet.

"No…keep thinking I'm forgetting something."

"It's San Diego, Mia. Not…not halfway across the country. If you do, we'll be back in a couple of days anyway."

"I know," she said and Brian sat up and reached for the lamp.

If the Mona Lisa was the picture of serenity, then Mia was the picture of misery. "Aw, Mia," he said, and pushed the covers back, but she came to him instead, stopping at the edge of the bed.

"I don't want…I want…"

"Shhh…." Brian said and caught her hands and pulled her down to sit, pulling her close, and let her cry. "I took advantage of you once. I won't do it again."

It was pretty humbling to realize she believed him. "I wasn't exactly kicking and screaming," she grumbled between hiccoughs.

Brian made room for her putting an arm around her and pulling the blankets back up. "Are you gonna hit me if I say I can be just a friend?"

"Probably. But I'll do it tomorrow," she said, calmer and quieter.

It wasn't that hard, to hold her, stroke her hair, kiss the top of her head when he reached for the light. She smelled like he remembered, talc and citrus, felt warm and comfortable against his chest. The crying was reduced to an occasional sniffle and eventually she relaxed completely, and Brian closed his eyes as well.

He hadn't really expected to fall asleep and didn't realize he had until he woke up again, Mia still curled up beside him. There was a creaking noise and it took him a moment to realize that it was a door. Bathroom or…only Mia was here.

Shit. he thought and had nothing he could use as a weapon at all save the lamp, and climbing over Mia would wake her and he did anyway as steps came down the hall.

"Uhm, Brian…?" sleepy and not awake and there was the shadow on the floor.

It was pretty much hopeless from the start even as Brian stepped out and swung the lamp, catching the ski-mask-obscured face right across the nose. Mia screamed as Brian made a grab for the gun, seeing a second shadow, another form…

"Mia, window!" he snapped back at her because it was the only way out of the room, out of the house. He saw the gun come up and let off a shot of his own, the sound exploding through the house, as splinters of wood dug into his shoulder.

And Mia was tangled up in the blankets, trying to get to the window. He caught her arm and half dragged her off the bed and then down as bullets shattered the window, pierced the wall. He could hear dogs barking, noises outside, where was the fucking surveillance team? and reached under and heaved the heavy bed up providing a barrier, but not for long as more bullets punched through the mattress. "Go, go!" he snarled at her clearing the glass and feeling it slice into his hand. There was no roof on this side, only the drop into the back yard, two stories and he caught her hands to let her get closer to the ground. "Run! Do not stop!" he yelled, Mia's terrified face burned into his brain as clearly as Vince's was.

It was the draft on his back that warned him and he leaned out, heard the explosion of sound and felt the thud into his back then the raw burn as his arm went numb. He dropped Mia, and heard her scream again. Pain hammered through his skull, and he started to fall. His last thought was he'd probably break his neck or a leg…and that he'd broken his promise.

### Part Fourteen:

_  
at night we crossed the border following a Black robe  
to the edge of the reservation—to Cataldo Mission  
where the saints and all the martyrs look down on dying converts  
what makes the water holy she says  
is that that it's the closest thing to rain ~ "Wings" music &amp; lyrics by Josh Ritter  
_

Walking into The Sea of Cortez was kind of like walking into a huge bathtub. The water was warm, the wave swells small, the huge tide drop, oddly enough, one of San Felipe's biggest tourist attractions. Not a lot of tourists at the moment, though because unlike the Pacific Coast, there wasn't enough breeze coming off the inland sea to make much of a dent in the temperature which could push well past a hundred. Even the permanent US immigrants, mostly retirees, had fled north for cooler temperatures. In a couple of months, the rains would come, the place would cool down, and the population would explode.

But to the beach they went, and just wading into the water and soaking in it daily seemed to do a hell of a lot more for Dom's shoulder and Letty's hip then any combination of drugs, salves and booze. They went into town too, keeping their profile not exactly low but less than attention getting. If they were going to be here for awhile, letting the locals get to know them would be better in the long run. It kept them from getting on each other's nerves too, which was kind of a miracle in itself, but even Dom felt the rising need to blow off some steam, or would soon. But he could wait, wait until Mia was settled, maybe then take a run up to Tijuana or Calexico, get Mia to come down. And then maybe they could collectively get their grieving and their anger out, and get on with it, come to accept that what they'd had, that was over.

Neither Letty nor Leon were quite there yet. Leon, drunk or sober, seemed to find a lot of comfort in trying to find a way to bust Vince out. The plans got a whole lot sillier and outrageous the more he drank --and he was drinking a lot, but he made them laugh with some too complicated for TV plan involving a bulldozer, Nos, and the local dog pound. Dom had almost forgotten he could laugh, and was afraid Letty might make herself sick. It was Leon's way of dealing, though, and it was actually easier to encourage it rather than discourage it.

Letty was dealing the way she did: bursts of anger, punctuated by long periods of kind of eerie calm. Her sarcasm got edgier after a couple of days, when she could move better, when the boredom started getting to her. Dom was actually finding the down time to be more calming, once he'd accepted there was nothing he could do. Not now. Then again, he had Brian bringing a huge chunk of his life closer to him, and Letty, Letty spent at least fifteen minutes every day arguing with her mother, which would then prompt her to demand Leon's car keys and she'd go rip up some road for a couple of hours.

The police had made one stop at the Alverez household, merely to ask if they knew where Letty was or if they'd heard from her. But it seemed to be more for form than anything because they hadn't stayed and they hadn't hassled the family. Dom wasn't sure what that meant, didn't know if there was actually a warrant out for Letty or Leon, and maybe not even for himself -- although he doubted it.

And after his one conversation with Brian, he stubborned himself into not asking. Brian was being a dick, or Dom thought he was, but in all fairness, he probably was just what he said, tired, and maybe finally grappling with the enormity of what he'd done. Dom was still struggling with it himself. What Brian would do afterward, after Mia was settled, Dom couldn't even begin to guess. It bugged him that it was important for him to know.

They moved the money out of the car. There was more still stateside, and it wasn't a problem here, because San Felipe pretty much operated on cash and few questions. It would be a long time before they even needed to think about going for it and by then the heat would be off, Dom hoped. San Felipe was a good place to lay low and heal up, to think. Long range plans, those were going to take a lot of thinking.

Mia seemed less teary and a whole lot less mad about all of it the night before she and Brian were to head down. It was the house in good hands more than anything, and the market. What to do about the garage, they hadn't decided yet and Dom counted it a small hint of grace that he hadn't had anyone waiting on their car that Mia had to deal with. It was locked up, but Dom gave it a month, outside, before somebody broke in and found themselves in the middle of a damn treasure trove of high end equipment and tools. He should just go ahead and try to sell it, see if he could move some of the equipment down here, although he didn't know what a place like San Felipe needed with a high end garage.

Friday though, Friday he felt good, better. Because it would be done. Mia would be closer, out of danger he hoped. Catching up with her gave Letty and Leon a boost too. The minute she called, Dom decided they'd head to Ensenada or Tijuana.

She didn't call in the morning to let him know they'd left, and Dom tried not to sweat it. By noon, he was feeling a little more anxious and tried her, getting nothing but her cell voice mail and the line at the house was busy. It was possible something had happened to give them a late start -- trouble with the truck, anything. By sunset, though, Dom's good mood evaporated completely. He tried her again and got no answer on the cell. It could be anything, he kept telling himself: Not being able to get into her apartment and the two of them hunting for a motel for the night.

When his cell finally rang an hour or so later and he saw Mia's number, he felt like he might fall over from relief. Letty and Leon were hovering a little as he answered. "Mia…girl, I was going nuts."

"I'm afraid I'm not your sister, Mr. Toretto." A male voice and one he recognized. Behind that he was pretty sure he could hear Nina Gutierrez. "Nor is she here. Neither is O'Conner."

"Who is this?"

"Detective Sergeant Tanner." The man's face flashed into Dom's brain and he stood up, Letty and Leon giving him space.

"So what are you doing at my house, Detective Tanner? Trashing it again?" Dom demanded. They had nothing on Mia. Right? Brian had said--

"Actually…someone else beat us to it. I'm guessing you were expecting her."

"What's going on?" Dom demanded, glancing at his friend. Both of them had tensed up at the word Detective. Letty looked ready to bolt and Leon, Leon just looked confused. Dom ignored them both.

There was silence for a long moment, the background voices fading, before Tanner spoke again. "We got a call this early this morning from Nina Gutierrez. She doesn't seem to have quite the aversion to police that you do. They heard shots, screams, cars taking off, all of it happening pretty quickly. No one got a good look at the cars. When they checked the house, Brian and Mia were both missing. The two officers assigned to watch your sister are both dead. So, you tell me, Mr. Toretto, what's going on before I write this off and assume that Brian and Mia took a fast trip to Vegas and drop it entirely."

Two cops dead? The LAPD would drop it when hell froze over. "Brian talked to you."

"Brian used to talk to me a great deal. He's been amazingly quiet lately."

"He doesn't know how to be quiet. He talked to you, Tanner. About Tran."

"He mentioned it. As far as we can tell, no one of that ethnic persuasion has been following your sister, unless it was the mother with two children in the grocery store the day before yesterday. Why the Trans, Mr. Toretto? You can't tell me in the whole of LA, they're the only people who might have a grudge. Maybe it was truckers who lost their jobs over your little stunts."

"Fuck you," Dom hissed. "It's them, him. Why aren't you talking to Lance Nguyen?"

"I have talked to him. He's given me about as much information as you have. Toretto, the FBI is already on this, but we have very little information, and certainly not enough to raid any of Tran Huu Phuoc's multiple holdings because of your paranoia." Tanner's voice had gone flat. "They left my two officers dead in their car. There were no bodies in the house but there is a great deal of blood. So, my guess is that both your sister and my officer are still alive. No note, but if it's ransom they're after, they're going to have a little trouble getting in touch with you. Especially in Mexico."

Dom didn't even blink at Tanner's knowledge of where he was. It didn't take a genius. "What are you going to do?" Dom said, feeling the muscle in his jaw tense up as he paced the floor.

"That depends largely on you, Mr. Toretto. Even with his son's death, this is a little extreme for a man like Mr. Tran who has been so incredibly circumspect about all his other dealings. If it's you he's after, making yourself available is about the only hope in hell we have of finding either of them alive."

He was right, fuck him. "I'll make myself available to him," Dom said tightly.

"We can meet you at the border."

"To him, Tanner, not to you," Dom spat back. "You know, I'm sorry about your two cops," he said, unless it was Allston and Cruz, in which case they'd gotten no less than they deserved. "But your track record in protecting my sister? Not so great." And why would they take Brian? Mia he could almost understand because Dom understood family as much as Tran…but Brian…

And alive, which meant Tran wanted something more than a body to exchange for Dom. "Is there any way that Tran could know that Brian killed Johnny?" he asked.

"Nothing's been released to the press. The investigation is still open. He may be dead already or your sister. Someone was bleeding heavily."

Dom felt sick. "Nobody carries dead bodies," he said, praying it was true.

"Help me out, Toretto."

"I got nothing," Dom said. It was true. "And I can't get jack-shit worth of information from here. But I'll call you, okay? Give me a number."

He found a pen but ended up writing the number across his palm. "You know where to reach me," he said and rang off before Tanner could try to further appeal to his better nature.

"Tran grabbed Mia," Letty said, not asking, only confirming.

"And Brian. I need to find out what the street word is. Pack the cars."

"We going back?" Leon asked, "Harder to get out than in, man."

"I know…" Dom said wiping at his face. "I'm not asking you -- either of you, but …"

"Yo, Dom," Letty said, exasperated. "This is Mia. Where you go, we go, right, Leon?"

"We go," Leon said, like there was no doubt.

Maybe there wasn't. "The cops are going to be looking for me," Dom said. "So we split up. Hector, Edwin, Quincy, we find what we need to know," he said and finally found paper to copy Tanner's number down, while Leon started grabbing up things: Clothes, water, extra gas cans. The Civic was the only car with speed enough to outrun the cops, or the border patrol, but the Pontiac could muscle its way through pretty much anything except a brick wall. "We're gonna need another car," Dom said, wondering if anything on the used car lot in San Felipe would be worth paying for.

"We could jack one," Letty suggested. "Better luck in Tijuana…"

It was a thought and Dom nodded, but the border there into San Diego was a hell of lot more heavily guarded than Calexico or any of the crossings that had crappy roads and intermittent fencing. Neither car was fit for cross country driving, though. They'd end up in a sand dune or in a RV-sized pot hole. He handed them copies of Tanner's number.

"You want us to call this cop?" Letty asked, looking a little stunned.

"Yeah…because we're not exactly going to be able to bust them out ourselves, but we need info and we can't get that behind bars," Dom said and his phone rang again. He flipped it up but didn't recognize the number.

The voice though. "Dom? Dom, I'm sorry…"

"Mia!" Dom thought he might have screamed it. "Mia, where are you?"

"Ow, don't--"

"Mia?"

"Dominic." It was a male voice, accented and Dom recognized the soft voice, the clipped English. "Your sister is my guest," Tran Huu Phuoc said smoothly and Dom could hear Mia still but she wasn't talking…more like whimpering.

"Whatever you want, Tran, you've got. Don't hurt her," Dom said quickly. "Just don't. Your beef is with me."

"I thought you might understand that. Your sister took some persuasion. She is a very brave young woman," Tran said and the admiration seemed sincere but it wouldn't stop the sorry bastard from killing her.

"What do you want? You want me, you've got me, just tell me where."

"I require more than your presence, Dominic. I require your assistance. The unfortunate death of my son," he said it coldly but it was hard to tell if he were angry with Dom or with Johnny, "and the arrest of my nephew has left me with many problems that I think it is your duty to address."

Many problems? "What do you mean?"

"I require a replacement for my son."

Sorry, I'm fresh out of bastards, Dom thought. "What, you want to adopt me?" Tran was silent and Dom bit his tongue. Sarcasm wasn't going to gain him anything except more pain for Mia. "I don't understand."

"My son and my nephew had been tasked with a delivery, which remains unfulfilled. I am suggesting that you fulfill that delivery. In return, I will release your sister, unharmed."

"A delivery."

"My property is already on your side of the border. I need it brought to me."

Dom could only imagine. "I'm guessing taking it across a legitimate border isn't going to cut it."

"No, I fear not. However, both the route and the method of transport await you. Do we have an agreement? You deliver my property by six a.m. tomorrow and I release your sister to you, unharmed."

"Six a.m."

"Earlier would be preferable, but I am a reasonable man, Dominic. This is a business transaction, nothing more."

Reasonable as a viper. "I'll do it. Tell me where. Mia for whatever. What about O'Conner?"

"You mean the police officer? A separate issue. My son is dead, Dominic."

"Your son killed Jesse over a pink slip."

"The stupidity of his death does not dry his mother's tears, nor absolve me from settling his honor."

"You can have the car, man."

"I prefer a more equal payment of debt. Unless, you are saying you killed my son?" Tran asked, an opening Dom knew was more test than anything. It was like one of those Chinese finger puzzles.

"Jesse was on my team, so is O'Conner. Like I said, Tran, your beef is with me. Your property for Mia, me for Brian. How's that for a sweet deal? Because you know…you know, it's really me you want, no matter who pulled the trigger. Your clan, my clan -- it's the big dogs that fight, right?" he said calmly and glared at Letty when she dug her finger nails into his arm and shook her head.

"Let us complete one transaction before engaging in a second," Tran said. "This is where you must go."

Dom almost knocked Letty over grabbing for the paper and pen, dropping to the floor to write out the directions. North then, toward Calexico and Mexicali. It would add a couple of hours to his drive to LA. "I got it…" he said. "North on 5 left off mile marker 40. What am I looking for?"

Tran was concise, and aggravatingly patient as Dom repeated it back to him. "And where do you want the drop?"

"The final direction will be with the package. You will not be able to cross at any of the established border crossings. I will expect to see you before six and understand, Dominic. I do not tolerate tardiness. Nor do I like unexpected company. You will meet me alone, or not at all."

"I'll be there. Let me talk to her."

"When you arrive."

"Now Tran. I may end up getting my head blown off coming across the border. Come on…she's my sister."

It took a moment but the he could hear the sounds change, and Mia's little cat-like sniffle. "I'm coming to get you, bella. Okay? You hang in there. I love you, Mia."

"I know…me too. Dom, he'll...I don't want you dead."

"And I don't want to be dead. You gotta trust me, girl. A little faith. Don't piss them off. They haven't hurt you?"

"No…not really." She said. Roughed her up a little maybe. "But Brian -- Dom…he's--"

The phone was jerked away from her and Dom swore. "You can have a lengthier conversation in the morning. I'll see you then, Dominic." Tran said and the line went dead.

"Fuck," Dom said softly and tried dialing back only to find the number blocked. "Shit…let's go."

"Where?" Letty asked but they were moving, taking both cars.

Dom gave Leon the directions. "Stay close, brother. We'll get gas in San Felipe, then we're not stopping." Not that there was any place to stop.

Getting on the road took his concentration for all of fifteen minutes, then they were flying up highway 5, angling inland from the coast, Dom and Letty in the Pontiac and Leon in the Civic. He didn't even have a gun, except he supposed it didn't matter because for sure, Tran was not going to be alone, if he was even there. It wouldn't be out of character for the man, having made his deal, to let his underlings handle the rest. Every encounter Dom had had with the elder man had left him with the impression that their meetings were beneath him, but it hadn't taken Dom ten minutes to realize dealing with Johnny was like dealing with a spoiled child.

A spoiled, mean-tempered, easily ticked off child. It didn't actually say much for Johnny's relationship with his father that Tran was using his own son as some kind of mule and Dom was a little nervous about finding out what the "package" might contain: guns, drugs, for all he knew it could be a truckload of immigrants.

Outside of San Felipe, it didn't take five minutes for the night to close in on them, asphalt barely a shadow against the desert sands. And Mia was okay. He kept telling himself that every five minutes. Shaken up, scared to death, but okay.

Which meant the blood Tanner found either belonged to one of the kidnappers or to Brian. Dom suspected the latter. Mia's cut-off mention of his name left him feeling kind of cold and hollow. Brian was what? Hurt, dead already? And Tran knew he was a cop which didn't bode well and also made Dom wonder if Tanner knew he had a leak in his department. Probably, or suspected it. If LAPD didn't have a leak, they'd be the only damn police department in the fucking nation without one.

But if he were after Brian, why not just kill him? Why haul him out with Mia? Not that Dom really wanted to complain about Brian being taken alive, but it bothered him. Tran had something else cooking and that boded well for no one that Dom cared about.

A little over an hour later, Dom started slowing down periodically, checking mile markers. There were some dirt tracks out here but nothing that really could be called a road until you hit the east-west expanse of Hwy 7 and when he finally found mile marker forty, there wasn't even a dirt track.

What he could see, though, was the shadowy hulk of some unfinished structure as Tran had described. It was hell on both cars, and if the shocks survived the uneven ground, he'd be a fan for life. Their headlights scored brightly across the corrugated and rusting steel and Dom shut them off, Leon rolling up behind him and doing the same. Grabbing a Mag-lite, Dom got out and checked the road behind them. Hardly any traffic and they'd seen little on the drive up.

He caught Letty's hand, picking their way over scrub and rocks and around cacti. Leon followed with a light of his own, and found an opening.

Not a door. Either the elements or some truly bored vandals or a combination had peeled a section of the steel back like a rotten fruit peel. Inside was darker than out, but Dom flashed his light around and saw the irregularly shaped, camouflaged hulk in the corner. But it was larger than he expected. If they were gun cases, they'd never get them in the cars and never past the border. Around them the steel rattled in the night breeze, and there were coyotes hunting somewhere.

Jerking back the cloth, Dom felt his stomach drop a little. "Fuck me," he said.

"Oh, shit," Leon echoed.

Motorcycles, two of them, with black dull finishes. These could not be what Tran wanted and Dom got closer, glancing at the saddlebags and helmets. In between the two bikes were two small back packs. He grabbed one and hauled it up onto the black leather seat. It was heavy as shit, maybe fifty pounds of something. Tucking the Mag-lite into his mouth, he opened it.

The light caught plastic and the pure whiteness it contained.

"Holy shit," Letty whispered, peering in. "That's…shit, man…What the hell is that, his retirement account?"

It could be, Dom realized. Cocaine, heroin -- he didn't know what it was, but he doubted it was powdered sugar. And there was a lot of it. Easily a hundred pounds between the two bags. Not really his area of expertise, but this might be a couple a million's worth of dust.

It explained the motorcycles too. It was one thing to try and smuggle ounces or even a few pounds of drugs into the US, but this was major transport. The sniffer dogs would go crazy a mile out.

He dug around some more. "There's a map here somewhere," he said and found it in a saddle bag, then cursed again. The whole thing was written in Vietnamese. It took him a few minutes to make sense of it, but he did finally, because the little red mark was in San Pedro, at the docks, and the number there had to be a berth number: 107.

There was also a set of wire cutters in the saddle bag. Great.

"Can you even ride one of these things?" Letty asked.

Dom grunted, checking the bikes. "Guess we'll find out," he said but the truth was, he'd ridden a motorcycle like twice in his life, on a street. Cross country, that was going to be a whole lot different, especially in the dark along a route he didn't know.

"There's two," Leon said, pointing out the obvious.

"No shit," Letty snapped. "Dom, this is nuts. You're gonna break your neck."

Dom straddled one of the bikes and fumbled around. It took him three tries to get the sucker started and he tested out the controls: gas, brakes, found the headlight. The damn thing rumbled beneath him but someone had done a hell of job of sound reduction on the muffler. It was damn near silent. He shut it back down again and rubbed both hands across his face and up over his skull. "Maybe. But we try to make a run on the border with that shit in the cars and we'll get caught for sure. Look…" he said. "Whatever else, this is the best way to get that crap across the border. There's a rest stop on 8 outside of Calexico. You two, take the cars, meet me there if you can. Because I'm sure as hell not driving to LA on this thing."

"I could go with you," Leon offered.

Dom was tempted, but shook his head. "No…no, cause you're gonna need the car to get back."

"Get back?" Letty said. "We're going with you."

"No, you aren't," Dom said. "Not this time, babe," he said when Letty opened her mouth to protest. "This is not games, Letty. This is not one for the team. Not this time. There is no team. Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" Leon asked.

"I mean," Dom said and stopped. He didn't have time for this. He owed them though and he needed them. "We've lost Jesse. Vince…I'm not losing anyone else. Not Mia, not you guys." Not Brian either. "Not for this. I don't know how this will end up, but what we had -- that's not coming back. Have you thought about it at all? Because I have been for days, down here. You didn't sign up for this."

"Not the point, Dom," Letty said and it was hard to tell if she were angry or what, with the weird light. "We are a team…we stick by each other no matter what."

"No matter what, Letty? You tell me, baby, and be honest. You ready to settle in San Felipe, and play house? Because that's what we have to look forward to. Even if I pull this off and can make it back -- you gonna stay, or visit me on weekends, like you did in prison? It's not what you signed up for, Letty. Are you ready to go to prison, because heading back -- there's a good chance you will," he said brutally.

"I don't want to go to jail," she said flatly, looking troubled and pissed off. "Shit," she snapped, arms flailing. "What? You're gonna make me decide now?" she snarled. "Fuck you…I don't know what I want, Dom. Except right now, you, Leon, Mia…you're what I have. I'm not giving that up, not yet. You do not get to decide for me, Dominic. Not now, not ever. Jerk," she said and Dom almost smiled, wanted to, just for the fire in her.

"Okay…but you need to think, Letty. You too, Leon. Always, always there will be place at my table, capisce?" he said and held up his fist. Letty bonked her own on it hard enough to jar his arm, Leon was a little more respectful. "Rest stop outside of Calexico. I'm going to need the Civic for the run to L.A., so get it gassed up, because I'm gonna have to tear up some road to get there by dawn." If he could. God knew how long this little cross country jaunt would take.

"We'll be there, Dom," Leon promised and they probably would be, unless they got picked up and they might, because no doubt Tanner was calling out the dogs.

"Be careful," he said grabbed up the second backpack.

Letty hesitated and Dom reached out for her. She was going to do this, but he'd shocked her, he thought. "I don't want to go to jail," she said again and he nodded.

"I know. Don't get caught, Letty. I do not want to have to call your mother," he said and she nodded and kissed him swift and hard before following Leon out.

Dom turned his attention back to the map before they even started their engines. It made no more sense that it had before -- there were directions, which he figured listed landmarks and under each a set of two numbers. It took him a minute to realize they were longitude and latitude. "Oh, great. And I forgot my fucking sextant," he muttered. This was obviously an established route, a run Johnny and Lance had made more than once. Which meant they kept bringing the bikes back. He flicked his flashlight over the instruments set between the handlebars. They wouldn't be carrying a sextant either which meant…"Oh, sweet," he whispered and cranked the engine, bringing the lights up and, very sweet, a GPS tracker.

The landmarks he'd have to pass on, but the L&amp;L, those he could plot. He checked the second backpack and found it just as loaded and moved some of the bricks out, putting as many as he could into the first backpack and the rest he managed to wedge into the saddlebags.

It made the backpack heavy as hell, his shoulder warning him that it hadn't quite recovered from the previous strain. Helmet on, and checking to make sure he had his cell and nothing he needed was left behind, he eased the bike out of the shed. The headlight let him see about five yards ahead, the ground uneven. Unfamiliar with the bike, he turned it north and put the first few sets of coordinates into his brain before tucking the map carefully away.

The first few miles didn't seem too bad and Dom spent a lot of time just getting used to how the bike handled. He learned to adjust his weight and balance to compensate for the heavy pack and understood why it took two riders. Even with his shoulder whole, this would be seriously uncomfortable at half the weight. The extra poundage of the drugs, plus the fact that he probably outweighed Johnny or Lance by a good forty pounds didn't help, the thick trail wheels sinking into soft sand. But he found his balance and coaxed the bike to more speed. He thought he might just have it made when the ground suddenly dropped away from him. He almost crashed right over the side of the wash that had suddenly opened up.

He stopped and checked, breathing hard. Already his back was killing him both from the heavy pack and from having to lean his weight forward. He was thirty miles from the border and in the scant illumination of a crescent moon and stars, the land looked broken and rough. He might have done better to take the road up closer and cut across, but chances were the areas closer to the highway were patrolled more heavily.

He pushed on, trying to ignore the clock on the GPS tracker, making speed where he could, and slowing down when he had to, because if he took a hard crash out here, he'd die before he could get help, even if he could get a cell signal, and Mia and Brian -- he had no doubt Tran wouldn't give him one second after 6 a.m.

Another twenty miles and he thought he understood why people went mad in the desert and he couldn't blame the sun or heat. The shadows were deceptive, the ground alternating between sand that nearly mired him and hard pack that made him shoot forward with little control. Even with the helmet, he could feel dirt and grit form a crust around his mouth and his head itched. Stupidly, he hadn't packed water. He had to keep checking the GPS because it all looked the same to him.

He crossed over Hwy 7 another hour out. The bike could handle the terrain but not at any speed -- or at a speed Dom could maintain, which was frustrating to no end. It got rougher beyond the highway, Dom feeling like every muscle was being torqued in all directions and it slowed him even more. He was concentrating so hard he almost missed the headlights, catching a glimpse of the bouncing lights ahead of him and he slewed the bike to a stop, cutting the engine.

A truck was making its way along some track, the lights dancing up and down over the rutted ground and then he had to duck suddenly as a search light cut through the darkness and nearly blinded him, then glinting off a metal fence and poles.

He was a hell of lot closer to the border than he thought. The border patrol missed him, the matte finish of the bike reflecting nothing back. He waited, watching it, until even the taillights disappeared and he couldn't hear it any longer. Sound traveled oddly in the desert. Bringing the engine up again, he checked the GPS. Maybe a little east of where he needed to be, but he kept the head lamp off and eased the bike forward.

He left it tucked behind some scrub, almost groaning when he shed the pack, his shoulders screaming. Bolt cutter in hand he crept forward, listening and watching. He had no way to know how long he had before the border patrol came back. He guessed it was more information he couldn't read on the map.

Lovely, he thought, snagging himself barely on half-buried razor wire. "I hate that shit," he murmured to himself and made cuts through it, trying to clear enough of a gap to get himself and the bike through.

The chain link was even tougher and Dom went for a section between two poles where there seemed to be more give. Fifteen minutes later, he'd only managed a cut about three feet high, and he could see headlight heading back his way.

He cut faster, blisters forming on his hands, dirt and sweat acting like sandpaper on his palms. The truck was less than a mile away, maybe doing fifteen miles an hour.

It was a whole lot closer by the time he thought he had a gap wide enough and he ran, not daring to start the bike and finding pushing it was a whole lot harder. The search light was scanning the desert and Dom pushed, got the nose of the bike through, but there wasn't enough room for him to squeeze through with it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" he swore softly and shoved, grabbing up the pack and then awkwardly kicking the bike to life and letting go. There was just enough kick to propel the bike forward before it fell over with no pressure on the accelerator. The muffled roar sounded like a freight train to his ears, and was obviously loud enough to be heard because the searchlight swung around.

He crawled after the bike, heard the border patrol shout and was scrabbling forward. He lost the helmet and nearly lost the back pack as he wrestled the bike upright again and got on to kick it.

"Border Patrol! Stay where you are or we will fire!" Came the order, repeated in Spanish, and Dom kicked at the bike again. It came to life, coughed and he gunned it, leaning low. There were shots fired but he didn't know if they were at him or over his head.

He could only head east, try to get out of range of anyone calling up, and trying desperately to remember how Hwy 8 curved. He almost wrecked again when he hit asphalt and the bike suddenly had more traction than he knew what to do with.

He had to be above Calexico by a couple of miles and the rest stop…Shit. He had no idea if he was above it or below it. If he missed Letty and Leon, he wasn't sure he could make it back in time.

He had to be below it. The border wasn't that far behind and he hit the road, putting as much speed into it as he could. After a couple of miles he thought he'd chosen wrong and half decided to go back.

But there was no going back. Not on this road, not on any of it. His sister was not going to die because of some Asian asshole's greed or desire for revenge. Not while Dom was still breathing.

And not Brian either. No one else was going to die because of his bad choices. He would bet money it was Brian's blood, no matter how much he wanted to wish it otherwise. Brian would not have gone down without a fight. Truthfully, it was a damn miracle he hadn't gotten himself killed. But he had lives like a cat, it seemed. Kept landing on his feet even when Dom was the one pushing him down. He kept thinking Brian brought out the worst in him, even when he was making Dom laugh. In his face all the time, not backing down. Letty with balls…well with real ones rather than figurative ones.

No, not like Letty. Not at all. Because Letty was always absolutely clear what she wanted from Dom and Brian…for all the things he didn't back away from, that one, he did. Asking Dom to give up a lot, but never more than it was in him to do.

"Fucking idiot," Dom muttered only he wasn't sure if it were himself or Brian he meant.

Lights ahead and he blinked, near blinded by the night air, but it was there and the sky glowed dully with them.

The rest stop was nearly empty except for a single semi and a van, and, thank the Blessed Mary and all the Saints, a dark brown Pontiac sedan and a black Civic parked side by side.

"Jesus, Dom, you look like hell," Letty said.

"Water," he demanded and Leon jumped to bring him a bottle. Dom took a long drink, then poured the rest on his head and wiped at his face. "Get the stuff in the car…the Border patrol probably isn't far behind me," he said, and let them do the moving because he felt like he might just collapse or puke. The water hit his stomach like a tepid rock, and he took another swig, rinsing out his mouth and spitting it out along with the grit he could still feel along his gums.

He checked the saddle bags and grabbed the cell phone, looking for signal and found it, but no messages. "That's it. What time is it…" he asked and then checked the bike, swearing softly. Just before three a.m. and LA was still at least three hours out, even if he ran the Civic full out.

"One of us can drive," Letty said and Dom shook his head.

"No…I mean it, Letty. I go alone or Mia and Brian, they're both dead."

"You're going to be dead! God, Dom, you don't think he's going to let you walk in there with a fortune in drugs and then just walk out again?"

"I. Don't. Know," he said flatly. "And I don't have time to argue about it. He's got Mia, Letty. He's got Brian…maybe two for one is good for him. The Pontiac can't make the speed and you two, it's extra weight I don't need to carry. You want to help, at 5:45, you call Tanner and you tell him where I'll be and why. If it goes good, we'll be gone…otherwise, I'll be more than happy to let the cops nail Tran's ass. Can you do that?"

She stared at him for a long moment before nodding, stepping back. He wanted to kiss her or make her a promise, but he couldn't. "If you don't hear from me, you'll know it went bad. Otherwise, I'll find you. Call Tanner," he said and grabbed the water, sliding into the Civic.

"Dom, if it goes bad--" Leon said and then shook his head and held out his hand. Dom gripped it, hard.

"Take care of each other, cause if it does, nobody but you two and Vince are ever gonna know how good we were," he said, and then looked away, backing the Civic out, and heading for the open road and really glad the Civic didn't have rear view mirror.

 

(continued)


	4. Chapter 15-Epilogue

# Unfinished Business

  
**by Maygra**

## Chapters 15-Epilogue

### Part Fifteen:

_If you see me slowing down, don't rewind  
If you see me fall behind  
Just remind me  
remind me to forget you  
remind me, just remind me,  
remind me that we're history  
Remind me ~ Remind Me, Justin Tracy  
_

He remembered falling. He still was, and the urge to grab for something to hold onto overrode everything until he tried it, and then he was falling faster because the pain took out every other sense of anything except that it would never stop.

It did ease though, enough for the scream building up in his throat to escape. It came out in a gurgle of weak sound and a whimper that rang hollowly. Then it was drowned out by another voice and some of the pain eased, replaced by warmth that didn't burn.

"Brian, don't move, please…don't." Soft and urgent and it backed off enough for him to realize someone was touching him, holding him down. He couldn't move and he tried, only to have the pain rise up again.

"No…no...no…shhhh. Brian…don't." Mia was begging him, sounding breathless and almost stuttering. And he went still, breathing only in short, sharp gasps that didn't seem to provide enough air but didn't make him hurt. A hand swept across the side of his face, bringing the warmth again. It helped clear his head, made him realize he was lying on his belly on something hard and unyielding, cold and damp. Concrete. Damp concrete that smelled of oil and fish and salt and something coppery and metallic.

He wanted to say something to Mia, to tell her it would be all right. Carefully, he tried moving again, and found the worst of it was on his left side but it spread all across his back, into his arm, his fingertips. But he could move his right hand, and let his fingers spread across the floor, opening his eyes to watch his own fingers, like they were some kind of bizarre insect. A smaller hand covered his, slender fingers, the nails dirty and grimy. "Brian, please. You need to stay still or you're going to start bleeding again."

He couldn't see her, or not much of her. Knees and legs, the dirty edge of the overlarge t-shirt she'd worn to bed. Moving his eyes didn't hurt as much and he lifted them, catching the edge of her hair hanging down, but not her face. "Mia…"

Magic word, maybe, because he said it and pretty much everything came back. "Oh, shit…" he murmured and felt Mia's fingers in his hair. "Mia…help me up."

"No, no," she said softly but sharply. "Brian, you've lost a lot of blood."

"Not enough to kill me," Brian breathed out and got his right arm under him. In the end, she did help, but only after he'd decided she'd been right and not moving was probably a good idea. At the same time, he didn't hold back on the screaming either, except it came out like a croak. He couldn't make it to his feet, only managed to get up far enough to then fall back on his ass, but he was up, more or less. Then the darkness swam in front of his eyes and took over for a little while.

When he finally came back, he blinked. Come into the light, Carol-Ann, he thought. The utility lights overhead made his vision dance, but he was leaning against a side wall, Mia tucked up beside him, curled up really, half holding him up. The t-shirt was pulled over her knees, her skin pebbled with cold. When he touched her leg, she jerked, which jarred him, which made him hiss in pain as fire lanced through his back and shoulder. Oh, yeah…there was a bullet back there somewhere, burrowed under his skin. He tensed up and tried to ride it out, afraid he'd pass out again.

It eased though and he realized he was gripping Mia's thigh hard enough to leave bruises. He opened his fingers and Mia made a little "oh," of sound like she hadn't even noticed. Maybe she hadn't. Her skin felt like ice.

Brian realized he was cold too, but it seemed to be secondary to the flare of heat and pain in his back. "Sorry," he whispered, and carefully shifted his arm. If he moved really slowly, he could do this and Mia leaned in, shivering.

Not a freezer or anything so urbane. Just a utility closet, Brian noted, looking around a little. Electrical conduits and breaker boxes, in a room that was maybe ten by six. His eyes lingered on a dark wet-looking puddle on the floor, smeared some, drying to brown. Well, shit, that was lot of blood. "Where are we?"

"The docks," Mia whispered. "I don't know…some warehouse. Underneath."

Which explained the cold and damp. Mia wasn't dressed for this kind of chill. He wasn't either: the light sweats he was wearing offering not much more protection from the damp than Mia's t-shirt. "You're freezing," he said, trying to get her closer. Very carefully she wrapped her arms around him. It didn't hurt much.

"You too," she said and her hand pressed to his cheek.

"Not so much," he said, because he didn't really feel the cold, was merely aware of it. Mia was shivering and he wasn't. He vaguely thought that was a bad thing -- but no, that was for hypothermia and it wasn't cold enough in here for that, was it?

"Tran," he said, the name coming to him suddenly. His thoughts seemed pretty fragmented, and concentrating took real effort.

But again, the name triggered something.

He didn't remember hitting the ground outside Dom's house…but he remembered kind of coming around when he was being hauled to the car. Of Mia struggling, but she was limping and some goon had his hand over her mouth, then movement and nausea and he'd lost it when they'd shoved him into the trunk.

Being slapped awake and the sharp smell of ammonia or something. Of voices and questions that didn't make sense and Mia, defiant and angry and then…then… A whole lot more pain. Mia let her hand move, trying for an awkward embrace around his waist, and his belly felt tender where her arm rested against it.

She'd called Dom.

His arm tightened around her shoulders and he rubbed her upper arm, more for comfort than because it would warm her. She'd called Dom rather than watch Tran's goons finish what Cruz, Allston and the damn bullet had started. Which was probably good, because if they'd flipped it around, Mia would be dead since Brian didn't know how to get in touch with him. Except he really could have done without the kicking. Really. He should tell them that

He tried his left shoulder again and stopped, looking instead and seeing the remnants of the t-shirt he'd worn to bed tied there, only it wasn't white anymore either. Oh, yeah...that was a lot of blood and he felt vaguely queasy.

"How long?"

"I'm not sure…almost a day? More?"

Well, he hadn't bled to death yet, no matter the evidence or Mia's fears, and if he hadn't by now, he probably wouldn't. He looked over, staring at the single door. Metal, showing signs of rust despite the marine paint. "Is it locked?"

"What? I don't know…there's somebody outside."

Who probably had a gun. Great. "What does Tran want?" he asked her because that…all of that was kind of fuzzy.

"He wants Dom to bring him something...f...for me," Mia said and burrowed closer.

"Then he will. He'll be here soon, Mia," Brian said and didn't press. He didn't need to have it spelled out for him and he wasn't surprised. What he was surprised about was that he was still breathing although he thought that had more to do with Mia than anything. The same way Brian would be less likely to try something foolish with her the target of retribution. Power dynamics and leverage. Tran wasn't unused to the benefits of both.

"Mia…you have to help me get up," he said but it took him a long time to decide that was really something he wanted to do, ought to do.

"No, Brian…"

"Yes," he said meeting her eyes.

"And then what?" she demanded, in a harsh whisper.

Good question. "Then we'll see," Brian said and unwrapped his arm from around her.

She grabbed his arm and shifted in front of him. "Brian…please. You can't fix this. Don't kill yourself trying. Don't…" She dropped her head.

"Don't what? Mia," Brian reached out and caught her chin. Remembered her face when she was dangling out the window. Don't leave me alone…not here. And she had been because he'd been out of it mostly. "What if I told you I had to pee?"

She jerked and stared and he found a grin for her somewhere, which made her lips twitch.

"Do you?"

"No, not really. More like, planning for the future."

Her face fell again and he caught her neck and pulled her back against him. Okay, so he couldn't save her. That would have to be Dom's job. But Dom wasn't here.

If nothing else, moving around a little warmed them up some and Brian found that if he pressed his right shoulder to the concrete wall, the pain ebbed considerably. "Tell me what you saw," he coaxed after a minute. It might not do any good, but it got her talking, thinking maybe he had a plan. He had a couple but he was a little short on either weaponry or explosives.

They'd left the house by car, but they'd stopped somewhere and been moved to a van, which had brought them to a warehouse, but not the docks. That had happened later, after Mia had called Dom and Tran had made whatever arrangements he needed to make. Brian thought he vaguely remembered that, but mostly he remembered a huge space and a pair of size 12 Timberline boots. They'd pretty much been dumped here and no one had been back since, but Mia could hear someone outside the door. She couldn't judge the time very well. It had been daylight when they'd been moved from the car to the van, dark when they'd been moved a second time.

It bugged Brian that no one had been back. Weren't they supposed to gloat or something? Gloating he could handle.

"You talked to Dom," he nudged her a little and she nodded, pushing her hair off her face.

"Only for a second, but I heard Tran. He needed Dom to bring him something from Mexico -- something Johnny and Lance we supposed to pick up, but he didn't say what. He wanted it by six a.m. Dom's supposed to come alone. And…and…"

"What, Mia?" he asked her.

Her face twisted a little. "They talked about you. He wants…Tran wants someone to pay for Johnny's death. I think Dom tried to convince him it should be him, but Tran told him to wait. They'd talk about it when he got here. If he gets here…"

"He will, Mia. You know he will," Brian soothed.

"And you think Tran will…you think he'll keep his side of it?" she asked, not sounding happy with either the question or any of the possible answers. If Dom didn't show, or couldn't show, they'd both probably be dead. If he did, Tran might still kill them all, or he might let Mia go and kill Dom…but the sheer blatancy of it all -- in letting Mia see him, he didn't think Tran planned on letting any of them go. He didn't know if that bit of logic had occurred to Mia or not and didn't see any reason to point it out to her.

And really, the only way Dom wouldn't show would be if he were already dead. "He'll come for you," he told her again and Mia nodded, closing her hand over Brian's.

"He's coming for both of us," she said and Brian glanced down at her, a little shaken by her steady gaze, her serious expression. He didn't even want to think that hard about it.

"Yeah," he said squeezing her hand and giving her a small smile. "For both of us. Can't break up a good team."

Mia was quiet for a long moment, both of them shifting a little but trying not to lose the warmth that had built up between their bodies. "He was mad at you last night," she said quietly. "I asked him if he wanted to talk to you, but he said no. Then all he did was talk about you."

Brian wasn't sure if he'd ever heard anything before that made him feel both elated and miserable at the same time. "Mia…This whole thing has made him a little crazy." And this lovely little turn of events was likely to make him go psycho. "At the best of times, I make him a little nuts."

"No…that's not it. You make him think," Mia said. "You make him think about things that he's been avoiding. You make him look at things he doesn't want to see. Like the truck jackings. We never needed the money. I tried to tell him how stupid…he wouldn't listen to me, but he listens to you."

"Fresh meat," Brian said. "He just hasn't learned to tune me out yet."

"Don't joke," Mia said and pushed up, making him meet her eyes, searching his face.

Don't ask, Mia. Please. I don't think I could take it and you really, really don't deserve to have me keep lying to you. "Sorry. It's one of those bad habits."

"Along with your crummy friends," she said which didn't actually make Brian feel any better, but he could play too.

"Well, I've got you and Dom. Not so bad."

Mia gave him a sour look and then looked around the room. "Yeah, this a great deal we've gotten you into," she said.

"Mia, don't," Brian said sharply. "Do not take this on. Not even a little. Tran is a bastard, but he's a smart bastard, and a cagey one, unlike Johnny who was neither smart nor cagey. This isn't about his son or any deal, this is all about making sure his rivals take him seriously. The rest of it is just games. We just gave him an excuse to flex his muscles, and this time…he hasn't been that smart." He hadn't. That fact might not actually do them any good, but if the LAPD couldn't get anything on Tran after this little foray into mafia-like behavior, they all needed to turn in their badges and let chaos reign on the streets.

"I don't want to die," she whispered and Brian pulled her back in against his side.

"Me either," he said. "So, I won't if you won't, deal?"

"Brian…" she complained but she choked a little, laughter or a sob, it didn't matter. "Deal."

"Good. Cause you know, if anything happens to you, your brother's gonna kick my ass."

"He's a great brother."

Yeah, he was, Brian thought, trying to distract himself and Mia, asking about Dom...what he'd been like, their childhood. Maybe an hour passed, and Mia had stopped talking, both of them half dozing when Brian felt a twinge and shifted and realized that he really had to move. He sat forward and grunted when the bloody bandage stuck to the concrete and pulled at whatever scab was forming, a warm trickle of blood traveling over his skin. Plus, his ass was killing him. "Mia," he warned her. "I really have to get up," he said. "Seriously. I'm not going to be able to move at all if I don't."

She still looked doubtful but she helped, as much as she could, favoring her right ankle. "What did you do?" he asked her. He'd noticed the limp before he thought, but it hadn't been so pronounced or he'd been more out of it.

"I twisted it…when I fell," she said and Brian looked. It was swollen and bruised looking, but she didn't think it was broken.

Being on his feet made his head swim again and his legs tremble and tingle from lack of circulation. He felt Mia's hand on his back, and ground his teeth together when she tried to tighten the bandage. "It's bleeding again," she whispered, sounding worried.

"Not as much," he said and tested it. It burned like a motherfucker and he wished he had some way to keep his left arm from moving at all since that seemed to cause the worst of the pain that kept trying to send him under. "Just stay," he said to her and stared at the door. Letting his right arm press the wall, he made his way over to it and leaned against it. Listening. The hum of the conduits and the pounding of blood in his ears made that a pretty futile process and he tested the door knob, edging away from the hinge side so if there was someone out there he wouldn't get slammed into the wall when they came in.

It wasn't locked and he turned and pulled, a sliver of light gapping. He couldn't see anything and opened it wider.

Oh, there you are, Brian thought just before the butt end of an M16 headed for his face. He jerked back and the blow missed him but sent him slamming into the wall, which really, for the guy outside the door, worked just as well. Mia screamed out and the guy yelled something at him in Vietnamese.

Brian blinked at the shiny "o" of the muzzle an inch from his face. Beyond that, over the man's shoulder, he could see Mia, her hands at her mouth, frozen.

"Ease up, man…just wanted to ask about a bathroom," Brian gasped out, and the guy's eyes narrowed. He barked out something else and Brian just stared at him, afraid if he blinked, he'd pass out again. Gradually, the guy eased off, backing toward the door.

But not out, only to there, watching Brian, watching Mia, gun still trained on Brian's chest and yelled down the hall. It echoed, carried, and Brian found his gaze drifting to Mia. She had her arms wrapped around her chest, unsteadily putting more weight on her uninjured ankle. She looked kind of pissed off and scared.

Brian wasn't exactly feeling fearless himself.

Footsteps, rang against stone, the sound moving oddly, like in a parking garage. Brian rolled his head enough to see. Three men, Tran in the lead, none of them wearing masks or trying to hide themselves. That was so not a good thing.

Huu Phuoc Tran really did have the inscrutable Asian thing down pat. He looked pretty mild, considering. He was a small man, but size, as they said, doesn't really matter. Johnny Tran might have wanted to play big man on the streets, but his father, this man, with his nice but not horribly expensive suit and his neat hair and his gaze that had all the warmth of a dead lizard's, this man was living proof that flash was not necessarily substance.

One of the other men opened the door wider for him and he stepped into the room, glancing first at Mia, staring at her for a long time. He gave some kind of order and one of his guards trotted off, before turning his gaze back to Brian.

His English was heavily accented but it was probably more perfect than Brian's own. "Mr. Toretto has agreed to an exchange of favors," he said. "For his sister."

Dom would agree to kill the President for his sister. "That was kind of the plan, wasn't it?" Brian asked, meeting the dark, cold eyes. He might have flinched once, but he'd seen this guy, watched him backhand his son in the midst of a police raid and watched as his brother officers let him. In a weird way, he reminded Brian of Dom -- in control, commanding respect, and really not someone you wanted to fuck with too much.

"He informed me that the death of my son was his responsibility," Tran said calmly.

He would. Dom, you idiot. He's gonna kill us anyway, you don't need to give him more reasons. "Well, he'd be wrong about that. You know, you can't believe anything he says, because he's like, a criminal…bad dude, does illegal things…Oh, yeah. You'd be like that too." Brian said, not sure if the irony was lost on Tran, but apparently not, because Tran smiled a little.

Kind of the way a shark smiled. Brian had to swallow and hated it, sure Tran would think it was fear, but really, it was bile and nausea and if Tran were a foot closer Brian might be tempted just to let it all go. "Your son and your nephew rode down a residential street and opened fire. Johnny got what he wanted, then he got what he deserved. That was my bullet in his chest. Toretto wasn't even close."

"An officer performing his duty," Tran said coldly and Brian felt that cold creep into his blood.

No, I did it because he was an asshole, and becasue he was shooting at me. But it wasn't true. He hadn't even gotten there yet, because it had barely registered that he'd just shot a man to death before he was chasing after Dom. "Eye for an eye, Tran? Who pays for Jesse?"

Tran said nothing, but he continued to stare, like he was trying to memorize Brian's pores. The stare down only broke when his errand boy came back, carrying a bundle of cloth. Tran said something and the man moved toward Mia, who backed away. There wasn't a lot of room to back up, though and Brian pushed forward. "Leave her alone!" he snapped only to get shoved back against the wall which made him nearly pass out again. But he was no help to anyone out cold, no matter how appealing the thought. He held on to consciousness by promising himself he would vomit on Tran if the man got close enough. Just to make a statement.

The man tossed the cloth at Mia and it fell to the ground, unbundled. It looked like a pair of sweat pants -- was. They all waited too long and Brian cleared his throat. "Put them on, Mia," he said. If nothing else, she'd be warmer.

She reached for them awkwardly, but no one moved toward her and she managed to pull them up. They were little too big, but she was covered. Another barked orders and her clothing delivery boy motioned her forward with his gun. She followed his directions, limping, but shying away when he reached for her arm.

Tran moved back into the hallway and the guy with the gun didn't let Brian protest, only jerked him over until he was facing the wall. Having his arms grabbed and pulled behind him almost sent him to his knees again, but the weight of the gorilla at his back didn't let that actually happen. Thin, hard straps were wrapped around his wrists and pulled tight. Then he was being jerked outside the door.

He couldn't stay on his feet. He tried to, catching a glimpse of Mia looking back before she was hustled forward. This time when she tried to pull away, her guard wasn't having any of it, and she stumbled too, crying out. Brian would have gone to her, only suddenly there was a vise clasped to his left arm and it was all he could do not to scream himself. He wasn't entirely sure how well he succeeded, he just knew that the pain didn't stop at his shoulder or his back. he couldn't get his feet under him but that didn't stop them from forcing him to move forward.

Weirdly enough when they finally stopped moving it was the tops of his feet that hurt the most, like he was being stung over and over and he was in a perfect position to see them when he was shoved up against a van. His feet were scraped raw from being half dragged over the concrete.

It took him a minute to orient, to realize they were in a bigger space. Towering racks of cargo giving the illusion that they were in a weird kind of silo. When his gaze dropped back down he saw Mia, across from him, a good fifteen feet between them. She was also being pressed to a van, another van, but her hands were free.

Tran checked his watch and looked out toward the smaller open bay door. It was lighter beyond, but Brian couldn't tell if it was from the massive lighting system or dawn. He could hear water though and boats, the bells of channel markers.

A cell phone rang out -- literally -- it sounded like tinny cathedral bells. Tran put the small thing to his ear and listened, muttered some kind of acknowledgement and then dialed another number.

Brian couldn't make out what he said, but when he was done, took a few steps to stand in front of Mia. "It seems your brother places high value on your life, Miss Toretto. You should see him soon," he told her and Mia stared at him, not trusting him.

Tran glanced at Brian then back at Mia. "Perhaps you can resolve my quandary. When my people do things, I am responsible for them. Your brother indicates he feels the same way. Officer O'Conner admits to having killed my son. So, should the responsibility lie with Officer O'Conner or with your brother for the death of my son?" he asked.

Mia stared at him then at Brian, looking panicked, but she got a grip on it, anger flaring again. There you go, girl, Brian thought. "The only one responsible for Johnny dying is Johnny -- and maybe you," she said flatly.

"Then you think your friend Jesse brought his death upon himself?" he asked and Mia's eyes went wide.

"Jesse wasn't shooting at anybody!"

"Ah, I see. And your brother, according to Officer O'Conner, was not shooting at anyone either. So…tell me, Miss Toretto, you think it is Officer O'Conner's responsibility that my son is dead? I am placing a great deal of faith in your answer, and very much the decision of who will pay for the loss of my son," he said.

"He's fucking with you, Mia!" Brian shouted at her.

Tran didn't look at him at all, but Mia did, then back at Tran. "One of them will pay for it. I am allowing you to decide which one," Tran said, giving her a little bow. "That is the way of the American justice system, and you get to be both the judge and jury," he said.

The panic was back in her face, tears starting up anew, and she shook her head refusing to answer. Tran glanced up as did the other men, listening for something and then Brian heard it and Mia as well, the whine of a high performance engine, being pushed to the limit.

Tran barked out an order and one of his lieutenants dove into the van behind Mia and pulled out a sniper rigged rifle with a scope, and the bulk cartridge of a silencer. "Miss Toretto, I must have your decision now," Tran said, almost gently as the man reached the bay doors and leveled the gun toward the parking lot. "Either your brother or Officer O'Conner, or both," he said and Brian jerked as a gun was cocked really close to his ear. Mia yelped at the sound, a protest that included Brian's name.

The guy with the rifle took aim too. At the speed Dom was traveling, he wouldn't even have to hit him, just take out a tire or the radiator.

"Mia!" Brian snarled out. "I shot him. Say it." She stared at him. "Say it, Mia," he coaxed. "It doesn't mean anything."

Tran stared at him too but Brian ignored him. Come on, Come on, Mia. He hoped there was special place in hell for people like Tran. Maybe it was a comfort to know his son came by his insanity honestly.

"B…Brian killed him," she finally said and Brian actually felt a rush of relief. Tran tapped the sniper's shoulder and he pulled the muzzle up and reset the safety. Mia was sobbing as they pulled her back and pushed her into the van, her eyes lingering on Brian until he couldn't see her any more.

"Loyalty is something your people will never understand," Tran said, eyeing Brian. "Or honor."

"And you don't know shit about family," Brian spat at him. The door of the van behind him slid open and he was pulled toward it, pushed inside. He landed hard, unable to stop himself or do much of anything. He wasn't going to know how this turned out, he realized. He wasn't going to know if Mia was safe, or if Dom survived.

Which really, really sucked.

He heard the other van start up and roll out, leaving him with his stone-faced companion in the warehouse, his face and chest pressed against carpet that smelled really bad. But no one shot him immediately.

He heard the screech of tires, and then Dom's voice, calling out, sounding loud and confident and Brian couldn't help but smile at it.

"Yo! Somebody call for a delivery?"

### Part Sixteen:

_ When I wake to find the solace of  
All that we've become  
I can't wait to make the promises  
I've been leery of. ~ I Will Wait - Hootie &amp; the Blowfish  
_

The ride cross country had left him tense and sore, and a little freaked. It didn't instantaneously create admiration for either Johnny Tran or Lance, but shit…people who did that regularly, run the border, they really were crazy. Or desperate. Or greedy, he thought, the reminder of just how greedy the whole Tran clan was was sitting on the seat beside him.

He kind of got the drug thing, but he'd been really tempted only once, and that was in prison, where if physical escape wasn't possible, he totally understood the need to escape some other way. And even then, the temptation wasn't difficult to resist. He watched an awful lot of friends in the hood, in school, go down under it. All he really had to do was look at Jesse's mother, or even Jesse. Or even Paul Ellis, who'd probably been a whole lot cleaner when Dom met him than he had been on the street, but he was still -- the drugs were there, and Ellis seemed to know who had what when and find a means to get what he wanted.

Of course, had Dom ever even tried drugs and his old man had found out? Getting his backside tanned would have been the least of it. His father had been really clear about that. Respect your tools, and cars were no less tools than a drill press.

He was no expert on the current street prices, but what was in those backpacks -- he doubted even a combination of the truck jackings could bring in that kind of money. No wonder Papa Tran wanted delivery completed. He could buy another son for that amount of money.

He could buy a lot of guns too and Dom shunted that thought aside. He was not the cops and he couldn't figure it out -- why they couldn't nail the guy -- because everybody he knew knew where to go to get a weapon they didn't want to wait three days for. The gun he'd meant for Brian to use, he'd gotten that shortly after meeting Johnny Tran, who'd been what? Eighteen at the time? Slick, good looking, with a truly beautiful car and smirk that Dom had wiped off his face on their first race. It had been pure competition at the start, Dom even grudgingly admiring the kid for having the guts to come back again and again until he won one. It hadn't even bothered Dom to pay up -- Johnny had earned it. And that had seemed to level things a bit, enough for Johnny to come looking for Dom and Jesse when his father had a little job he needed done.

Dom had thought it strange at the time that Johnny had asked him about Jesse. He'd all but blown Johnny off, telling him to talk to Jesse himself. It had taken him awhile to realize that coming to him first was a mark of respect. One he'd thrown back at Johnny without a thought. Ah, cultural differences. What wonderful things. Whatever parity might have been there was gone after that and trashed further when Dom and his team had managed to do what Papa Tran had needed.

Except Dom never got the impression that Tran senior gave a shit. It was like he expected Johnny to screw things up, setting him up to fail. It wasn't regret on Dom's part. Catholic charity and forgiveness became so much bullshit when you watched a friend get gunned down in front of you. It had been hard enough with his father but that, he'd finally kind of come to terms with as an accident. Jesse was out and out murder.

He wasn't going to let that happen to Mia or Brian and if he had to go back to prison for making that choice, he wouldn't think it a bad trade at all. If he thought meeting Tran out here on the open road and taking a bullet would get them free, he'd do it.

He could almost hear Brian warning him not to load up on the guilt. Not his fault. And it wasn't, because this didn't all mesh together the way Dom would like it to. Not the hijackings, not Jesse's death. Bad choices, all of them had made them. But it was what it was. How he went forward made the difference because the past wasn't offering him a redo. And Brian seemed to know that, live that.

Brian had gotten a pretty raw deal from the start, only he didn't seem to regret it. Well, maybe a little because the past week had been no picnic for him. But he didn't blame anyone for it. It was what it was.

How had he gotten there? Dom had avoided trying to probe his increasing awareness of Brian for days but now he had a lot of miles and open road and nothing to do but think. He still knew next to nothing about him. Where he came from, what his people were like. How he could connect so solidly with Dom one second and then send him off the deep end the next. It was bizarrely familiar, that pattern of give and take, of forcing Dom to look at things differently, only to back off and give him space. Half the time it felt like Brian was playing him, and the rest of the time, it felt like Brian knew things about him that Dom didn't want anyone to know, didn't really want to know about himself..

And the latter was what drove Dom crazy, what kept drawing him back. What drew Mia back, although she seemed to be fighting it just as hard, not wanting to like Brian. He had treated her like shit, but Mia had said it first, it was like it wasn't personal. It wasn't even like he had been really trying to fool her.

And maybe he hadn't. I don't even love you like I love your sister.

Dom swallowed at that, he could practically hear Brian say it, see his face, bruised, tired and still grinning. Not embarrassed and not asking anything. It was what it was.

He didn't know what to do with it. It was kind of the way Mia loved him, only…not. He couldn't look at Brian and really say he saw a brother like he did with Vince or Leon, and not really a friend, or not only a friend. Sometimes an adversary but not an enemy. That didn't leave much. It pretty much left him with only two options, see Brian as someone who didn't matter to him at all, or someone…someone that maybe mattered more to him than anyone else except maybe Mia. He didn't even feel this way about Letty; Letty who'd been pretty much there for him and available, who loved him in her own way, but maybe, maybe loved her freedom a little more. Loved being with Dom as long as everyone noticed her as well, on her own merits. Their relationship had always danced between being lovers and competitors. She wanted to be Dom's equal, but she didn't know how to do it and be herself, so Dom ended up having to step back a little. And that pissed her off. She wanted him, but she didn't want his help. She wanted them to be equal partners but on her terms. It was fucked up from the start.

Brian didn't need to try, he already was, Dom realized. He hadn't come into this or stayed in because he wanted to follow anyone or prove anything. That very first race, it had been enough for Brian to be there to do what he could. He'd lost, but he hadn't really. No agony of defeat there, man. No backing down.

No backing down when Dom had tried to use something he knew against him. He hadn't really meant to kiss Brian, only to punish him, humiliate him. That had worked real well. He'd been pissed off then, he still got pissed off…but anger, anger was just fear turned outward.

There was nothing about Brian Dom needed to be afraid of. Nothing. Not what he felt or didn't feel; not what Brian felt. Not even what Brian wanted from him but kept refusing to say.

Why are you such a chicken shit about that, Bri? Afraid I'll pop you? Naw…did that, been there. Afraid I won't like you back, that I'll walk away? It pissed him off that Brian kept trying to give him reasons. Because it would be a reason for most guys. All of the above. His cop brothers obviously thought so and who else? And was Dom going to be one of them?

He didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out, and he was terrified that if he fucked this up, he might never have the chance or the choice to find out. It might already be too late.

No. No…that wasn't getting him anywhere. That was not an option. He checked his speed and his gas. He was pushing well past 100, thankful that the highway was mostly empty but he had the feeling his luck would break at some point. There wasn't enough Nos left in the tanks to do him any good at all if he got tagged by the highway patrol. He was going to have to rely on skill and high octane.

And he still didn't know what he was going to do when he got there, but he had nearly two hundred miles to figure it out.

He wasn't that familiar with the dock area: any memories he had were tied into a few trips there with his father to watch cars being unloaded and that had been, easily, fifteen years ago. He fumbled for the map again, looking for details. It all had to be by the water, right? But the dock area itself wasn't detailed. No doubt both Johnny and Lance knew it like second home since aside from being the local piss ant crime lord, Papa Tran ran a pretty successful import/export business.

It would get harder once he hit the 805, even this early in the morning because rush hour started in like, an hour. And that was a problem he wasn't sure could be overcome. Not alone and he glanced down at the phone. Tanner might not go for it, but if he said no, Dom would be no worse off than he was for not asking.

Why was he not surprised that Tanner was awake at four o'clock in the morning?

"Mr. Toretto. I understand someone ran the border about 20 miles out of Calexico."

"What? You got spies everywhere, Tanner? I thought that was the FBI, not the LAPD."

"Friends in high places. I'm assuming you have some information."

"What I have…what I need is a favor."

"A favor? From me. When you've given me nothing. Do you realize that people who go missing for more than 24 hours have less than half a chance of being found alive?"

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Tanner. Listen to me. I know Tran has them. You know it too, but I know it because he told me he did. Both of them. And he's offering them to me for a deal, but I've got a time limit."

"A ransom."

"You could call it that."

"I'm still listening."

"I need to have a clear run up the 805 and 405…"

"Is that all? You want me to shut down two major highways for you?"

"Two highways, two lives. Seems about right," Dom said.

"Barring a natural disaster, it's not going to happen, Toretto. What are you trying to do?"

"Save my sister and Brian. Six a.m.'s my deadline, man."

"Then tell me where you're going. I'm in LA, Toretto. I can get to them."

"No. No…he sees cops, smells cops, and they are dead. I've got something he wants. Just, look, just put the word out for no one to try and stop me and I'll find my own way in…"

The silence made Dom twitchy. It made him want to beg.

"Dominic…do you honestly think he'll hold to his side of this?"

"I think he'll hold to it long enough for me to get to Mia, to Brian."

Because Brian wasn't dead yet. He couldn't be. "After that….you can do whatever you want to him, to me. I won't even try and run, Tanner. You want me for the hijackings, you've got me. I'll give you my confession over the phone, right now. I'm asking you to give me a chance to make this work."

"Tell me where you're going. Trust works both ways."

"No…no…but at about quarter of six you're going to get a call telling you exactly where we'll be. Tanner…Brian put a lot of faith in you. Maybe you put a lot in him, and he disappointed you, but he does not deserve this. And neither does my sister."

"I want Tran. I pretty much want you too, but I'll take Tran. Not anyone else. And I don't think you can promise me that."

"I think I can," Dom said, glancing at his inanimate passenger. "I think I've got several million reasons riding with me that will make sure he goes down for good."

"Do I even want to know?"

"I think this would make you drool, man," Dom said. "I need a window. I'm heading straight in, toward San Pedro." It was more than Dom wanted to give him, but the city streets would be worse than the highways in the last stretch.

"Where? Tell me where, Toretto. The docks?"

"Five-forty-five man. You'll have it. We got a deal? Just keep the black and whites off me, because I'm going to be coming in really hot."

"I could lose my job," Tanner said, but Dom got the impression it wasn't really a serious objection.

"You could make your career, man. You get Tran and the chief architect of the most successful truck jackings this millennium…you'll be chief of police."

"That is more threat than goal, Toretto."

Dom laughed. He tried not to make it obvious, and more than that, he liked Tanner. He had no doubt that man would send him to jail the second this was over, but somehow…it seemed worth it. "Come on, Tanner. I mean seriously, when I get there, honestly, there's gonna be no place for me to go. Not a lot of roads west, you know?"

"I'll do what I can. Give me…I need some kind of route, Toretto. I can't shut down the whole city."

Dom chewed on his lip. "Okay. Brian trusts you, Tanner. Don't let him die because he was wrong."

Tanner was quiet again for a long moment. "I was just thinking the same thing. Give me your route."

Dom gave him what he could. "I'll be coming up Oceanside. After that…" and he was stuck, because Tanner could give him the last of what he needed, but then he'd know where.

"It's all well marked, Toretto. There's a gate. I'm guessing we'll hear about it the minute you hit the docks."

A gate. Great. That was good to know.

"Toretto, if you manage this…we will be right behind you. Remind Brian to keep his head down. He's on administrative leave."

"I'll tell him," Dom said and hung the phone up. Then he reached over to drag the bags open. There were no roads west of the docks, but maybe he could use that to his advantage. He dug into the console and found the Leatherman he knew Leon kept there. He needed a little bargaining power.

Whether he was lucky or Tanner kept his word, Dom didn't know. The 805 was dicey but open as he screamed past cars, using the emergency lane when he had to. Running the 405 was scarier at sixty than any race at a 140, and he lost time twice hitting exit bottlenecks that he couldn't get around and like every other idiot he laid on the horn. He finally broke through and then nearly lost it when he saw the flashing blues, ready to curse Tanner, his eyes watching the clock like he could will it to slow down and then realized they were holding an opening for the I-710.

Coming off the Long Beach exit, he lost paint on the side, crawling up the retaining wall and nearly rear ended a classic Ford truck. He caught glimpses of black and whites, but no one rolled after him and the road stayed relatively clear for him. Then the signs showed up, the Port of Los Angeles looming up on the horizon like some kind of weird floating island.

His fuel was edging toward red, but he pushed it anyway, and yeah, they definitely noticed when he blew past the gate, then he had to slow for a second trying to make sense of the signs. Marked, well-marked, as Tanner promised and Dom hit it again, pushing toward berth 107.

He had like eight minutes to spare, seeing the warehouse and a van close to the entrance with the T&amp;K logo. He pulled in hard and swung around, downshifting to put himself as close to the water as he could, and found himself feeling a little sick to his stomach as the Civic fish-tailed a little and then stopped about a fifty yards from the van and two feet from the water. Wrapping his hand around the back pack, he shoved the door open and got out, keeping the car between he and the van. One man got out -- not Tran -- and Dom stared hard at him. He didn't see Mia or Brian. "Yo!" he called out, waving. "Someone call for a delivery?"

The man watching him didn't move and Dom held the back pack up. "Tran! This was your deal, man!"

It took a moment longer but finally Tran emerged with another man and then there was Mia. Mia who stumbled, who was pale and red-eyed. "Mia!" Dom couldn't help but call out to her. He wanted to go to her, but stopped himself. "Send her over."

"When I have delivery of my package," Tran called out and the man out front started forward.

"No fucking way. Send her over, Tran. I'm here. Your shit is here," then he gave the bag a little shake over the water and white powder drifted out, and fell. "I rearranged your packaging," Dom said. "It's all here, but…" A little more powder fell and Tran snapped out something in Vietnamese. "Send her over, Tran. Or so help me…all of it will become just more pollution in the ocean," Dom said and stepped closer to the water to tilt the bag.

It was a huge gamble. He hadn't dared cut them all, because the last thing he needed was whatever shit this was getting in his nose while he was doing 120 miles per hour. "Send her to me, Tran. I'll stay right here, but my sister, she's done with this. She's got no part of any of it."

Tran's second pulled a gun and Mia gave a little scream as he pressed it to her temple. "No! Fuck you! NO!" Dom said and held his ground, spilling most of the loose powder over the side.

Tran snapped out something and the gun came down and Dom dared to breathe again. "Thank you, God," he whispered as Mia was shoved toward him. She was limping, and Dom felt the anger build, and the helplessness because he wanted to go to her, to help her. She was hunched over, waiting for a bullet, crying openly now. "Come on, Mia, Come on, bella, just a little more," he urged her, never easing the bag down. Then she was there and Dom wrapped one arm around her, kissing her head, kissing her face. "Jesus, Mia. I'm sorry. I swear…shit," he muttered and looked up. "Can you drive?'

"What?"

"Can you drive?"

"I don't know…I ."

"Get in the car. Do it, Mia. Get in the car," he said pulling her toward it, pushing her into the driver's seat. He kissed her again. "Start the car and go. The cops aren't far behind me."

"Dom…don't there's nothing--"

"You have to go, Mia bella. Brian's still--"

"He's dead," Mia said and her voice broke. "He made me…Tran made me…made me--"

Dom gripped her arm. "Made you what, Mia?" Oh, Christ, made her watch?

"Made me choose! You or him! " she screamed at him. "I chose you…Brian told me to pick him…for Johnny."

Son of a mother-fucking bitch. Dom felt like he couldn't breathe, like he couldn't think.

"Mr. Toretto. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain," Tran called out. "You will bring my property to me."

"Where's Brian?" Dom yelled back. "We had a deal, Tran!"

"Your sister renegotiated that deal on your behalf, Dominic. Now…the package."

"This? You want this?" Dom yelled holding the bag up. "Get it yourself!" he said and swung it around, hurling the bag out over the edge. The blocks of dope tumbled out, dropping into the water and then Dom was down, pushing Mia over. "Get down and hang on," he said, driving the gears past first, wheels screeching and he could smell rubber burning. Mia was in the passenger well, folded over the seat.

Dom took his foot off the brake and the Civic shot forward. He saw the guns, swerved, corrected and watched Tran run like a rabbit back toward the warehouse. Glass shattered and Dom kept after him, swerving around the second van when Tran tried to hide. "No place to run, you dick," Dom muttered and clipped the guy getting out of the van, sending him sprawling before he could get a shot off.

Tran tried to go further into the warehouse and Dom cut him off, driving him back out into the open. He caught only a glimpse of cop cars pouring in over the dock area, before his attention was back on Tran, trying to use the van as protection.

Mia was screaming at him as he drove the nose of the Civic into the back of the van.. He backed up and could see Tran on the other side, heading back into the warehouse. A little twist of the wheel and he gunned it again, slamming the front end of the van back too, shoving it against the cargo racks, and trapping Tran between the shelving and the van. One more tap right in the middle and Tran would be like a bug on a windshield.

"Dom! Dom!" Mia screamed again and she was out of the well grabbing his arm. "No, no…don't…" she said, sobbing. "It's murder! You aren't that! No…"

He could see Tran, palms flat to the glass, still moving. There was some gap there between the van body and the cargo rack…he'd have to hit the van hard to make up for it. Tran looked terrified, his screams mixing with Mia's, with the sirens.

I bet Brian didn't scream. I bet he spit in your eyes, you bastard, Dom thought and gunned the engine.

End of the quarter mile, man. Don't make bad choices because of me.

It was murder. Justified maybe, but murder. Not just five to fifteen, but life, maybe worse. Brian would not appreciate the gesture. Neither would Mia.

He backed up the car and shut it down.

It took Mia a moment to realize it, and he reached over and pulled her to him. Tran was still struggling. He wasn't going anywhere, and besides, Dom had promised him to Tanner. "Stay here," he said to Mia finally and kissed her again. "I don't want him to wiggle out of there."

Plus, punching the old man into silence would make him feel better. Not good, but better.

He checked out the front and back. Easier to go through and he stepped up, listening to Tran curse him in English and Vietnamese.

"Jesus, Dominic. I have enough people trying to kill me without you piling on." Weak, breathy, and Dom almost fell over, jerking the door back. What he saw was black sweats, bound wrists, and a lot of blood staining a pale torso that was kind of curled up on its side on the floor of the van. Most surprising, though, was the pair of slitted blue eyes looking at him with a mix of exasperation and humor.

"Brian…"

"No wonder you have to steal, the way you trash cars."

Definitely Brian. "Don't move," he said and backed up, Tran forgotten as he whirled back on the car and grabbed Leon's Leatherman. And he kissed Mia. "Brian's not dead," he said and didn't wait for it to register, only slid across the hood and into the van. The knife made short work of the plastic restraints, and then Dom was peeling his shirt off, when he realized the blood was still flowing.

He wasn't quite sure what to do but he crawled in, straddling Brian's legs, trying not to jar him because even with his hands freed, Brian hadn't moved much. And he was pale, too pale. Dom's shirt wasn't the cleanest but he turned it inside out and folded it up, pressing it against the already bloody cloth.

"Nice entrance," Brian said and his eyes closed.

"I was trying to impress you," Dom said. "Come on, Brian. Stay with me," he said reaching down to rub his thumb cross Brian's cheek and Brian's eyes opened again but they were looking a little glazed and dull.

"Brian?" Mia was there, crawling up beside Dom.

"Hey, Mia," Brian murmured.

"I thought you were--"

"Had a deal," Brian said, eyes closing again and Dom leaned down.

"Come on, Bri. Stay with me. Half the LAPD's out there. Mia…flag somebody," he said and glanced over. Tran had stopped trying to get free, looking toward the back of the van and Dom looked too, to see cars pulling up.

He could hear Mia calling them, calling for EMTs. He turned back to Brian. His eyes were closed again, chest barely moving. "Brian…Brian…come on, O'Conner. Don't check out on me yet. We got shit to discuss."

"Oh, yeah?" Dom had to lean in further to hear him, touching his face again. "I'm not getting you another car," he said and Dom smiled and braced a knee.

"No…not cars. This…'cause it might be awhile before I can do it again," Dom said and cupped his hand against Brian's cheek and pressed his lips to Brian's lightly, gently. Surprising him. Brian's lips were cool and dry, his skin cold too, but his mouth opened and Dom dared it, dared everything and found no fear.

It lasted no more than a second and involved only the barest touch of tongues. "Dom…"

"Shhhh…," Dom said and let his lips brush along the cool forehead. "Don't make a bad choice. I've got a better offer for you," he said and smiled.

Brian looked stunned. Or maybe it was shock and then Dom had to move back, an EMT shouldering his way in, then another. He backed out, watched with a feeling of lead in his stomach as they rigged up oxygen and took vitals and one of them started setting up an IV.

He ignored Tanner for the moment and went to Mia, to wrap both arms around her. "They need to see you too," he said. Half the LAPD and half the Fire Department had joined the party, it looked like. He turned back to Tanner in time to see two uniforms leading Huu Phuoc Tran away in handcuffs.

Tanner had handcuffs. Dom kissed Mia again and then turned around, putting his hands wide on the roof of the Civic.

Tanner stepped up behind him and caught one wrist, pulling it back. "I understand my evidence is now in the bottom of the ocean."

"It was wrapped up pretty good. I'd offer to get it for you, but I don't swim so good."

Tanner pulled his other arm down and secured it then turned him around. Mia moved in and Tanner only looked at her. "I understand he didn't exactly take delivery."

"Wow. That sucks," Dom said. "I guess you'll have to settle for kidnapping, aggravated assault, extortion and assaulting a police officer."

Tanner rubbed at his eyes and then smiled. "I guess I will. Drug busts just look so good on a resume."

One of the EMTs backed out and headed for his van, pulling out a stretcher, and all three of them waited. It took several minutes but Tanner seemed in no hurry and Dom certainly wasn't. Mia was still there, quiet and looking a little glassy eyed herself, arms wrapped around Dom's waist. He couldn't hug her back but he dropped another kiss on her head. Around them, Tran's men were being read their rights and loaded up, and somebody was taking samples of something near the dock edge.

Brian was limp and motionless when they moved him onto the stretcher, but the steady beep of the monitor was reassuring and the EMTs seemed more intent than urgent in their movements. Tanner walked with them a few feet, talking to one of them then stepped back to let them load their patient.

"Ms. Toretto. You can ride with them or--" Mia only hugged Dom harder. "Or I can give you a lift to the hospital. Muse!" he called and a tall, dark haired man loped up. "We're going to take a little detour to the hospital," Tanner said Muse nodded and ran to get the car.

"You gonna read me my rights?" Dom asked.

Tanner smiled at him. "Yes…Remind me of that again, would you?"

"Oh, sure," Dom said and Tanner gave him an odd look. Maybe Dom should have said thank you, but at the moment, he just wanted to be done. He wanted Mia taken care of, which Tanner would do, he thought. And Brian…he closed his eyes.

Choice made. Now he could only pray he hadn't made it too late.

### Part Seventeen:

  
_  
"When you feel so powerless,  
what are you going to do?  
Say what you want." -- Nelly Furtado "Say What You Want."  
_

The pain ebbed, grew, receded again. Someone asked him something and he thought he answered. Then he was falling again, but he was too tired to try and catch himself this time, too disjointed to even worry about hitting bottom. He smelled something sweet that made him want to vomit but he didn't have the strength to do even that much.

He kept falling.

There was coolness on his lips, then water. Bright lights, a sound that made him want to flinch, but then he couldn't remember it. The sensation of falling changed and he was hurtling forward, so fast. He should be able to feel wind on his face. He should hear the whine of rubber on the road. There was a whine, long, piercing. He wanted it to stop. It sounded like an engine about to blow out.

Slow it down, Dom…we're gonna crash.

He crashed.

It all went dark again.

The weight on his chest was nearly unbearable. He wanted to push it off but he couldn't move. He felt like he'd been kicked there. Oh, yeah, he had been kicked there. Someone had left their lights on or the keys in the ignition, the beeping was making him crazy. Then it stopped and he couldn't hear anything. Couldn't see anything. He was blind and deaf and he couldn't move. Maybe he was dead.

Someone whispered in his ear, a low rumble, like a perfectly tuned engine. He couldn't be dead, because the dead don't feel and he felt the hand on his cheek, stroking along his jaw, the press of lips to his forehead.

Stay with me.

He stayed for a little while.

When he opened his eyes, the light was too bright. It made his eyes water. White tiles. He blinked, and tried to lift his head, but it really took some effort. This was fine. He closed his eyes again.

It was sound that woke him the next time; someone trying to be quiet. A light touch on his forehead. It kind of reminded him of his mother. Maybe it was…was he sick?

He opened his eyes, and met brown ones watching him. Brown, not blue. "Mia…" he could barely hear himself. She smiled at him. "I thought you were my mom," he said and closed his eyes again. When he opened them again, Mia was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through a magazine. She had color back in her face, her hair braided back. She looked great.

She glanced at him and looked surprised, then smiled. She really did have the world's best smile. "Hi…" she said softly and then leaned forward coming back with cup and straw. Oh, man, that was good. Just water but who knew…it was his new favorite thing.

"Hi…" he could hear himself now, although his voice was pretty unimpressive. Kind of hoarse and squeaky. Mia opened her mouth and said something but he couldn't hear her and Brian closed his eyes again.

It was sound the next time, too. Clearer sounds that he could actually name. It didn't take that long for him to register the fact that he was in a hospital. What he didn't know was how long. He felt Mia move and opened his eyes to watch her get up to refill the pitcher at the room's sink. She wasn't limping. Okay, so a couple of days.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

Not entirely strung together, he thought. "Kind of …like I was in a crash," he said and he did feel that way, kind of sore and achy, but no really unbearable pain. "How long?'

"A little over a week," she said.

"Since the crash?"

Mia hesitated. "You didn't cr….have a wreck, Brian. Do you remember anything?"

He fought for it, for the last thing he remembered. Mia reached out to brush her thumb over his cheek.

Dom's thumb on his cheek. His lips on Brian's. Nearly taking Brian out in the van. Sounding so cocky and sure. Mia screaming his name. Making her choose. Brian closed his eyes again, tightly, but it didn't stop the flood of memories or sensation. Back then forward, the house, feeling the bullet in his back, watching Mia fall… joking with Dom, fighting with Dom…watching Jesse fall. The beeping that had irritated him before started up again and the pain he hadn't felt rushed back, into his chest, into his gut. Mia was calling his name again, no screaming it.

Someone else was calling him, and a mask was pressed over his face. "Mr. O'Conner, Mr. O'Conner! You have to calm down. Just breathe." Not a voice he recognized but he did, kind of. He'd heard it in the darkness occasionally. He breathed, eyes flashing open. He didn't recognize her face; the dark skin and lines, full lips. She wore a white blouse and had her hair neatly pulled back. Maybe forty, about 140 lbs…a nurse. "That's it…that's it," she said gently and glanced away, only to look back at him and smile. "There you go…everything's all right. You're fine. You're gonna be just fine, honey. Shhhh…shhhh…"

"Shhhh…Don't make a bad choice. I've got a better offer for you."

He almost started breathing too fast again, but forced himself to breathe deep and even, because the pain in his chest was coming back, other pains as well. He looked around, seeing Mia hovering worriedly in the background.

He made himself breathe slowly until the nurse eased back and swapped off the mask for a clear line she adjusted deftly under his nose. "I'm going to go call the doctor. You're going to be fine, Mr. O'Cconner…just try not to get excited, keep breathing steady for me," she said and moved away.

"Mia…" he said, and maybe his voice sounded more like his own. She came forward and he made himself lift up his hand. She caught it between both of hers. "Tran…" he wanted to ask about Dom but he didn't.

"In jail… no bail," she said, after a moment, rubbing his hand like it was cold. "Sergeant Tanner says he won't be getting out anytime soon. Even without the drugs Dom brought. Did you know that? Do you remember Dom coming?"

"Yeah…made an entrance," he said and tried to tighten his hand on hers, but it was weak. He felt as weak as a kitten.

She smiled at him and shook her head. "Yeah, he did."

Brian wanted to know, but didn't know how to ask. "You're okay?"

She nodded "I'm good. I'm fine," she said. "Tanner's been really good. He got…we got Jesse. Got him taken care of."

That was good. That was very good, Brian thought and the lights were bothering his eyes again but he ignored it. "He's a good guy," Brian agreed. "Mia…Dom…"

She swallowed and then lifted his hand and kissed it. No tears though. "He's in jail. No bail. But he's okay. They're keeping him kind of separate, 'preferred status' because he's a witness, but he's sharing a cell with Vince," she said with a little chuckle. "He's their best witness against Tran. He'll be glad to know you're awake. We've all been worried."

"I'm okay," Brian said. "You see him?"

"Every day. He's really okay, Brian. Bored…but okay and not…not like before. He really is…doing okay."

Preferred status wasn't like prison. It was like house arrest but not at home. "Good. I'm glad," he said. "You tell him…tell him we have stuff to discuss."

She gave him a confused smile but agreed. "I'll tell him."

She stayed a little while longer but after another ten minutes, the lights really were bothering him and he closed his eyes. He felt Mia's lips on his but it was kind of foggy and hazy.

It took him another day to get the whole story. His doctor was less circumspect than Mia, or he just knew more.

He had pretty much dodged the bullet a couple of times. The real bullet they had gotten out easily enough, except that Brian had lost more blood than he thought. The beating he'd taken under Tran's orders and the holdover from the little object lesson Allston and Cruz had given him, had led to some complications, like swelling and bruising in places that really didn't like to swell and bruise. His chest hurt because at least some of those bruises and beatings had let blood start collecting around his heart. There was more to it, including the procedure that had eased the pressure, which sounded worse than the beatings.

Basically, he'd died. A couple of times. He was just as glad not to remember either of them, thanks. But between that and the blood loss and just the fact that he was in pretty shitty shape, he'd been pretty much down for the count for the past week.

"You're going to need to take it easy for a while yet, Mr. O'Conner. Easy exercise, lots of fluids. Meds. But…barring this, you're in good physical shape. We don't expect any further complications," the doctor told him.

"How long am I in for?"

"Another few days at least while we ease you off the pain meds and continue to monitor your heart," the doctor added archly. "We'll get you out of bed today, have you start walking around a bit, but you're going to be tired. I'd grab your rest while you can. Apparently a good many people need to talk to you."

They would. They did, because he found Nick Tanner in his room that afternoon. "Dressed down, Tanner," he said and grinned at the smile he got in return. Tanner was dressed down in slacks and a polo shirt, no coat. "Looking for a country club gig?"

"Not quite. Taking a few days off." He pulled a chair up next to Brian's bed. "You look better."

"Doc says I am. What, no flowers?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. Maybe this," he said and offered a slim manila envelope to Brian.

Brian fumbled with it, tearing the edge. His badge and ID slid out and he fingered them, looking up at Tanner. Uncertain.

"You're still on the payroll," Tanner said. "Never off, actually. Administrative leave, pending the IA investigation. Which isn't done. You could lose them again," he said honestly. "But…undercover has some give in the rules. You feel up to talking?"

Brian slid the badge and ID back in. "You going to take notes?" he asked.

"Consider this a dry run, practice for the real thing," Tanner said evenly.

"What's going to happen to Dom?"

Tanner folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the bed rail, pursing his lips. "It's hard to say. He gave a full confession on the truck jackings. But…there's some factors in his favor."

"Like Tran."

Tanner nodded. "Very much like Tran. Having you and Mia Toretto kidnapped, while extreme, gave us what years of investigation couldn't. The drugs…which we were able to recover, didn't actually belong to Tran. They were payment for something else."

"Drugs?" Brian asked. Mia had said something about that.

"About fifty kilos of China White, out of Asia, into Mexico and then back into the states. Usually it comes in through Alaska, this was new and it was a lot. Toretto picked it up. It was the ransom for Mia."

"No shit," Brian said, trying to take that in. "Fifty kilos?" At a million per pound. "Well that would help get California out of debt."

Tanner chuckled "I don't think that was part of the plan. It was enough, though, to get a warrant, several in fact. We're still hunting through his holdings. He's not going anywhere, and Dominic Toretto played a big part in that."

"How big?" Brian asked and Tanner didn't misunderstand him.

"Enough to find some leniency in the court, with recommendations. Even Bilkins ponied up. But, there's still the truck hijackings and his record. He's not going to walk, Brian. Not entirely. He seems all right with that, though. His friends…," Tanner leveled his hand out and waggled it. "First offenders mostly. We picked up Jackson and Alverez. Chances are they'll get six months to a year and probation. The fact that no one was really hurt, helped. Damages are high though. Toretto was smart to leave most of what they owned in his sister's name. We've recovered most of what they made on the merchandise. It doesn't equal the loss to the truck lines or the insurance companies, but, it's keeping them from going for his throat."

Brian nodded and dropped his head back on the pillow. That was good. Mia wouldn't lose the house or the market. She'd make it. "Any chance I could get in to see him?" Brian asked and Tanner studied him silently and Brian met his gaze.

After a moment, Tanner dropped his chin and nodded. "I'll see what I can do. You feel like giving me that preliminary statement?"

Brian agreed and Tanner did take notes but he didn't press too hard. Brian went through two cups of water in the telling and felt exhausted afterward. "How about I write this up and bring you a copy?. You can look it over, do what you need to."

"I'd appreciate it. Tanner," he said as the man got up to leave. "You know, you know I didn't hang around to try to get more on him. To find him."

"I know that, Brian," Tanner said. "But you may want to rethink that story." He tapped the envelope. "Those meant something to you once. You were a good cop, Brian. You still can be. Don't confuse what you want with who you are."

Brian nodded and Tanner left him.

Mia came by later and Brian was glad to see her, and he knew a little more so he didn't feel quite so in the dark. She had a routine down now: seeing Dom in the morning when she could, afternoons with Brian. She was back in the house but she'd encouraged Rosa and Santos to continue their move once the cops had finished. She was looking for an apartment.

"I know a great little house in La Brea," he said and she grinned at him.

"I might take you up on that. What are you going to do, Brian?"

He had no idea. "I can't even think that far ahead. Get my ass out of here first," he said. "It's going to be awhile before I can go back to work, if I go back."

"Do you want to?"

He didn't know. "Anything you want me to tell Dom?" she asked when she got ready to leave. "I'll see him in the morning."

It was an innocent enough question, Brian thought, but Mia seemed to be so careful about asking it. "No. I asked Tanner if I could get into see him. Just tell him I said hi."

She smiled and leaned over, kissing his forehead instead of his lips. "I didn't…" Doubt crossed her face and Brian caught her hand. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Brian asked her.

"For…for…"

Oh, that. "I meant what I said, Mia. It didn't mean anything. You know, don't you, that it was a damn miracle and your brother's guts that got us out of there still breathing, right?" he said and she nodded but didn't look entirely convinced. "It was never a choice you'd make, Mia."

She frowned and then shook her head. "Yeah, it was. I had a lot of time to think about it, Brian."

"He's your brother, Mia. There's nothing to forgive."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "There is, but I hear you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she said and this time did kiss his lips, lightly. Like a brother.

Tanner came the next morning, and dropped off Brian's statement, but didn't linger. Brian asked for and received paper and a pen and spent most of the day revising and adding to it. They had him up on his feet and moving. He expected Mia but she didn't show and Brian was just as glad, catching a nap in the afternoon, until noise in the hall woke him up.

The door opened and Brian blinked, thinking he was dreaming. That looked like Dom. Dom who looked better too, rested but kind of out of step in stretch pants and a t-shirt that bore the LAPD Corrections logo. Then Brian saw Tanner and realized he was behind Dom. Outside was a uniformed police officer.

Tanner finished taking the cuffs off and glanced at Brian. "Your doctor isn't letting you out yet and Toretto needed a follow up with a doctor here. You've got about fifteen minutes."

And he closed the door.

Dom just stood there for a long moment and Brian didn't quite know what to make of his expression. "Well, you look a hell of a lot better," Brian finally said.

The wry grin that crept slowly across Dom's face made Brian's heart pound a little faster. The doctor told him he should watch that.

"I could say the same thing," Dom said and came closer, grabbing the chair and pulling it next to the bed. He didn't sit on it though, only lowered the bed rail and sat next to Brian on the mattress, bracing a foot on the chair and an arm on the bed, leaning over Brian a little. "How you doing, O'Conner?"

I'm doing great. He just knew he had a goofy grin on his face. "Follow up with the doctor?"

Dom shrugged. "Shoulder. I did a little more damage on the ride up here. Didn't notice it though. Well, not until later. They gave me exercises."

"I've seen Mia. She's -- she says you've been doing okay. Have Vince to keep you company."

Dom rolled his eyes. "I may kick him just to get him to shut up. He's good though. Sends his regards."

"He's okay?"

"He's gonna be. He's gonna have some scars to impress the girls with. They gave him exercises too."

Brian nodded. "Tanner said they picked up Letty and Leon."

"Picked them up at the door of the station," Dom said. "I don't think Letty was very happy about it, but she doesn't like to be left out. I think Leon thought maybe he could bust Vince out, if he could get in. That man's brain is a little twisty even for me at times."

"Tanner thinks they'll go light--"

"Brian," Dom said. "I think we've covered everybody. Almost everybody, and I don't have a lot of time. You ready to have that discussion yet?"

His expression was mild, the smile only barely there and Brian didn't know what to say, only that this…this was… "Dom, you thought I was dying."

Dom's mouth twitched down in a frown and he dropped his gaze for a second, but then it was back, eyes wide, intense, dark. Nothing hidden. "Not really, but I thought you might die. You were the one who told me the 'what ifs' would kill me. Well, I'm not going to die, and according to everyone I've been pumping for information, neither are you. Not anytime soon, anyway. Although, you know, that jumping in front of bullets shit? You really need to cut that crap out."

"I wasn't planning on making a habit of it," Brian said, and met Dom's gaze. It looked softer somehow, still intense, which made him feel a little uncomfortable. Made him want to squirm a little. And Dom was only watching him, leaning over him, but it wasn't intimidation, it was more...sharing space. Like he had every right to be in Brian's space. "Even so, Dom…this..."

"Bri…" Dom shifted his weight, leaning closer but not pressing Brian down. His hand came up and hovered for a second in the air next to Brian's cheek before settling there, like warmer air, barely a touch. But a finger traced over his brow, along his jaw. "Brian…whatever you're afraid of, it's not in me, man. Not this time. You can...say...whatever you want."

Brian took a deep breath and held it for a second. This felt like the start of a race, or like there was a hit of Nos coming but he didn't know when. "Actually, talking wasn't what I had in mind," Brian said and felt the adrenaline kick in. He leaned forward, saw Dom grin, heard him chuckle, and then he was falling again. Dom's lips were locked to his, mouth open and hungry, but gentle, nibbling, tasting, taking possession. He reached out to catch himself and found Dom's arm, his neck, and held on. It was like falling faster and faster, only it wasn't frightening at all. Dom's tongue teased his, left his lips wet, and he sucked and returned the pressure, let his fingers explore the texture of Dom's skull, finding it both smooth and rough.

Dom's arm slid up behind him bringing him forward and up. He felt a twinge and ignored it, pulling back to grab some air then diving right back in again. It wasn't falling, it was flying, speeding along open road, with no barriers, no end in sight, all of it a blur and a hum and throb deep in his blood and bones. Throttle back and slowing, Brian felt like there wasn't enough air in the room and he didn't care. But Dom did, giving him space, but not letting go. He felt movement and the hum of machinery, the upright of the bed coming up further so he could brace his back against it and Dom put enough space between them to press his broad hand over Brian's chest, fingers spread, not pushing him back, just resting there. Brian didn't know if Dom could feel it, but his heart was pounding fast and steady. Strong. That should make his doctor happy.

Now it was Dom who had trouble meeting Brian's eyes, gaze dropping, but he didn't back away, only moistened his lips. "I don't know…where to take this or how," Dom said finally and his eyes snapped up. Serious, but the warmth hadn't left his expression. "I'm not going to be able to walk away from this crash. Not immediately."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere," Brian said and did his own tracery over Dom's face, a little surprised when Dom turned his face into the caress, like a cat. He wanted to tell Dom, he'd waited his whole life for this, but it wasn't entirely true, at least -- he'd been waiting for something. He just didn't realize what.

"That doesn't seem quite fair," Dom said softly.

"Life's not fair, Dom. You know that better than anybody. It just is, man," Brian said, pressing his fingers to Dom's lips, feeling the wetness, seeing the flush there, but Dom's eyes when he lifted them again; there was no fear there, no doubt and the regret...that would take time. Brian had it. "But there's a whole lot more than a quarter mile to it. It's the long stretches that take what you've got to give."

Dom nodded and leaned in again. Brian met him, the kiss more searching, slower, deeper. It made his blood pump faster, so much so he got a head rush off it, inhaling deeply, like he could take some part of Dom inside him and keep him there. And that thought sent him off in a spin he wasn't sure he could recover from, blood rushing every which way, and so fast. He heard himself groan and Dom tightened his grip, hands smoothing along Brian's sides and leaving searing heat on his skin.

The knock at the door pulled them apart, but not swiftly, and Tanner gave them a few seconds grace before he came in. Dom didn't move away much. "Toretto, time to go," Tanner said and he sounded apologetic.

"Yeah," he said and pressed his hand against Brian's chest again and then let go, tapping his own chest before sliding pretty gracefully off the bed. "So, I still owe you a little sunshine," he said, putting his hands behind his back without protest so Tanner could cuff him.

"I'm not buying you another car," Brian shot back and Dom grinned and showed all his teeth. "But I think I still owe you a ride," he added and grinned when Dom's jaw dropped a little and speculation brightened his eyes.

"Yeah…I think you do. Something fast."

"No, man, something slow. Something that will last you a while."

And Dom laughed, which made Brian grin and Tanner look pained. "See you, Bri," Dom said and Brian took it as a promise with the look Dom gave him and felt the blood leave his head and heart and travel a little lower.

The wait might kill him, yet.

 

###  Part Eighteen:

  
_  
I like mine with lettuce and tomato,  
Heinz Fifty-seven and French fried potatoes.  
Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer.  
Well, good God Almighty, which way do I steer!  
Cheeseburger in Paradise ~ Jimmy Buffet  
_

Detective Sergeant Nick Tanner was racking up serious points in Dom's book. He wasn't quite ready to change his attitude about all cops, but between Brian and Tanner -- well, they weren't all assholes. Some of them were pretty decent. Just guys doing a bad job the best they could. It was not their fault it sometimes ran counter to Dom's interests.

The extra points weren't for the back up at the dock, or the favors on the road. He treated Mia like she was his own daughter: didn't rush her or try immediately to get information out of her. But mostly because he let Dom stay with her. Hand cuffed, Miranda'd, but there. They separated briefly while Mia was having x-rays and Dom found himself handcuffed to an exam bed with a uniform in the corner, while a doctor checked him over as well. Dom didn't protest the exam or the pills they gave him. Now that things had quieted down, he was feeling every bruise, every muscle strain and every second of anxiety in the last twenty four hours all at once. His head was pounding so hard, he thought it likely that Tanner could have gotten him to confess to every murder in the last ten years, if he'd just give him aspirin. Somebody found him cleaner clothes, and let him wash up with one hand until he at least felt like he wouldn't just fall over.

Then Tanner reappeared and took him upstairs, where they had moved Mia. They wanted to keep her overnight and she didn't want to stay. Tanner brought him to convince her and left him with her, with a guard, while he checked on Brian.

Because Brian was in surgery, it took hours to actually get any news and Dom tried not to fret too much, watching Mia sleep and finally dozing himself, slumped over her bed with his handcuffed hands holding one of hers. It was nearly dark when Tanner came back, looking about as worn and washed out as Dom felt. Vaguely, he understood Tanner was probably breaking a lot of rules, but when he asked about it, Tanner only waved him off. "Technically, you're in protective custody. It's going to take time to sort all this out."

"Brian?" Dom asked, quietly, but he felt Mia's hand tighten on his. She was awake.

Tanner leaned against the wall and rubbed at his eyes. "Larson, why don't you see if you can find us some coffee, maybe some food. Sandwiches will do," he said to the uniform and waited until he left. Tanner was still wearing his gun but he wasn't being obvious about it.

"He's in CCU, critical but guarded optimistic," Tanner said, watching Dom to make sure he understood.

CCU? "Wait…Isn't that Cardiac?" Dom said, pulling it out of long forgotten memories of his mother's death and the ICU.

Tanner nodded. "They lost him on the table taking the bullet out, brought him back. He crashed again in recovery."

Did Brian have a heart condition Dom didn't know about? Not that it would surprise him. What he didn't know about Brian far outstripped what he did know, except one thing. He didn't realize he'd spoken.

"No. Well, not before this. There was fluid build up around his heart, compressing it. If I understand the doctors correctly, it's probably the fact that he had lost a lot of blood that kept him alive until you could get to him. He got worked over pretty good by Tran's men. The previous beating," Tanner's lips thinned. "Probably started it."

"It was your two cops, man," Dom spat out. "Allston and Cruz."

Tanner stared at him. "Maybe so. But other than talking to them--"

"I was there. You need a witness, you've got one."

Tanner pushed himself off the wall, face tight. "A witness? You actually saw--."

Dom glared back. "I was there--"

"Toretto, think very carefully before you answer that," Tanner said quickly and flatly. "Because a police officer, harboring a fugitive with a felony warrant out on him, that's something the Internal Affairs of the LAPD is not likely to ignore. You understand me?" he asked quietly.

Dom did, but it angered him. No matter how many points Tanner and Brian racked up, it was asswipes like Allston and Cruz that leveled it all out again.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Mia asked and Dom checked his anger.

"Guarded optimistic," Tanner repeated. "I can't tell you any more than that, Ms. Toretto. I only talked to his doctor briefly and saw him just for a moment."

"Can I see him?" Dom asked and Tanner looked hesitant. "I just…he took a bullet for my family, Tanner. A thank you is the least I owe him."

"I'll see," Tanner said and then Larson came back with sandwiches from the cafeteria, chips and drinks. Dom didn't think he could eat but the first bite made his stomach scream for more. It figured it would be tuna. Mia picked at hers but drank the soda. Tanner and Larson wolfed their food down like men who knew it could be a long time between meals.

Then Tanner left again, to check on something, Larson taking up a position near the door. Dom ignored him and tried to get Mia to go back to sleep.

Tanner came back for him a little later, looking regretful, but he spoke to Mia. "He won't be going in with the general population, Ms. Toretto. The visiting hours are a bit more family friendly. So, when you feel up to it, you call me, and I'll arrange a visitation." He gave them a moment and Mia hugged Dom hard and he kissed her, then he was headed down the hallway, staff and other visitors eyeing him a little warily. Even cleaned up and cuffed, Dom had seen himself. He needed a shave and a shower. He had cuts all over his face and arms from the motorcycle ride. He was no prize for pretty.

When they reached the elevators though, Tanner stopped anyone else from getting on and then punched in for the third floor instead of ground and Dom stared at the label: ICU, SCU, CCU, Trauma…

Tanner pulled the keys to his cuffs out. "Understand me, Toretto," he said quietly as he freed Dom's hands. "You've been a model prisoner so far, but if you run, if you try anything, I will shoot you."

He was dead serious. Relaxed, easy about it, but serious. "I just want to see him," Dom said and Tanner nodded and gestured for Dom to precede him when the elevator doors opened. They had to stop at the desk and check in, Tanner speaking quietly to the nurse. "In two. Ten minutes only," she said and gave them both encouraging smiles.

Tanner only followed him as far as the curtained edge of the cubicles and Dom had to repress a shudder. He remembered these sounds, these smells. He'd only visited his mother once or twice. There hadn't been time for anything more. He'd been in a hospital a few times since then, but never for any longer than he needed, and only in an emergency, like when Mia needed her appendix out.

Distance and time didn't make it any more desirable. He wanted to avoid looking at Brian, afraid of what he might see, but the cubicle wasn't that large and was packed with equipment: Monitors, pumps, what looked like a half dozen IVs piggybacked into two lines that led to the backs of both of Brian's hands.

But his gaze finally shifted to Brian's face and he was surprised. He hadn't really been looking in the van and it had been nearly a week. The bruises had faded, leaving a faint yellowish tint to his skin around his left eye, the cut on his lip was almost gone. He needed a shave too. There was a whole lot more color in his face than when Dom had last seen him; still too pale, making his tan look sallow, but there was color there.

What wasn't there, was any real sign of life. He was breathing, but it was shallow and slow. No twitching, nothing. There was a lump on his chest, under the loose hospital gown, grayish wires trailing out over his shoulder, across the bed, to one of the machines. An oxygen cannula lay loosely under his nose. Some kind of foam wedge was under his left side and Dom could see bandages beneath the gown, wrapped around his shoulder, maybe across his chest too.

Dom was almost afraid to touch him, because he didn't look real. He was afraid if he did Brian would feel cold and waxy, like his mother after her death. Brian took a deeper breath, which startled Dom a little, and Brian's fingers flexed but he didn't wake, didn't open his eyes or his mouth.

Dom laid two fingers on the back of Brian's hand. Cool, but not cold and his skin warmed on contact. And his skin didn't feel waxy or strange. There was solidity, not fragility in his hand when Dom wrapped his fingers around Brian's palm. The same on his upper arm, the skin warmer, relaxed, but Dom could feel the muscles underneath. He leaned down a little, letting his fingers wrap around Brian's upper arm, rubbing his thumb there and let his other hand curve toward Brian's face, the backs of his fingers stroking over the stubble, testing the fading bruise.

He didn't know what to say. Didn't know where to start and he supposed it didn't matter because it wasn't like Brian was in any condition to pay attention. "I could use one of your smart ass comments, about now, Brian," he finally said, really wishing he could hear one. "You're the one who always knows what to say. Me, I'm not so great at it...saying what I mean." There wasn't any response, not even a flutter of the dark lashes against Brian's cheeks. "But I think I've got a lot I need to say to you, if you want to hang around and listen." Should he tell him that everybody was okay? Did he need to hear that? Except everyone wasn't okay. Not yet. "Mia's good. She's downstairs. You did good, Bri. You took good care of her, don't think you didn't. And your friend Tanner, he's okay. I mean he's a good guy. I like him a lot. The kind of guy you might like to hang out with…you know, if he wasn't a cop. But I guess that's not really the dividing line anymore, is it, O'Conner? There you go, taking all my shit and spreading it thin again."

He kind of felt like an idiot, except it wasn't about looking or sounding foolish, just that it had taken him too long, and now he really did have a lot to say. "Brian, I don't know what we can do. I'm pretty sure about what we've got, but we need the time to figure it out. I need you to hang in there for me and help. Stay with me, Brian…" He couldn't say anymore

He pressed his lips to Brian's forehead, feeling smooth skin, the brush of lank curls. Behind him Tanner cleared his throat and Dom glanced back. He couldn't see anything but the man's silhouette beyond the curtain. "I gotta go, Bri-- I'll…" What? See you? Talk to you?

He'd find a way. And if he didn't, if Brian didn't--

He shut the thought off. One step at a time. This was what was in front of him. Maybe they really had only been meant to intersect for awhile, but Dom didn't think so. This ride…this wasn't going to be ten seconds of freedom. This was more than that. He squeezed Brian's hand once more and went to test Tanner's patience a little more with a grin on his face.

He didn't hold onto the image of Brian in a hospital bed. He had a lot of pictures in his head, but that one didn't really stay any more than the rest. Mostly because the pictures in his head of Brian laughing or smiling far outnumbered those where he wasn't.

They came at him at odd moments, that and the absolute fact that he could hear Brian wisecracking as he was finally booked and assigned to a cell. It was different than what he expected. Still a cell, but the bed was decent, the bathroom actually had a door, there was a TV …it kind of looked like a hotel room except for the bars.

Not that he actually noticed that much at first, because the minute he stretched out on the bed, he was gone. Out. He didn't wake up until they brought him breakfast the next morning.

The next couple of days kind of blurred together. He saw a lot of Tanner, and maybe a dozen other cops, plus a couple of guys he thought were feds. He told them pretty much everything, going back a few years to his first dealings with Tran. Through the hijackings, and up to the phone call that had sent his world spinning out of control for the second time in as many weeks. The only thing he left out was staying at Brian's. He had no way of knowing what Mia would say, but he suspected Tanner, as ethical as he was, wasn't immune to having an agenda of his own.

He got proved right, because in one swift telling, Tanner laid out where their stories all collided. And when the cops asked him why Dom hadn't said anything, Tanner and the guy Dom thought was a fed, dived right back in.

"This was a big operation, Captain," Bilkins said. "We thought the hijackings might tie back to Tran, but we needed Officer O'Conner to stay in to figure it out. He did so at great risk to himself once his cover was blown. Mr. Toretto has been assisting in making sure what we have on Tran, sticks."

There was more, all plausible, but most of which Dom knew was utter bullshit, but no one asked him to lie, so he didn't worry about it. Who was he to counter a federal agent in the carrying out of his duty? Plus, it looked like there was some inter-departmental Covering of Asses going on. The pay-off there was that Tanner actually got to use his statement against Allston and Cruz. Dom could almost hope they'd get time. There might be some guys he should introduce them to.

On the second day, he got to see Mia, in a room with a cop outside the door, but not separated by glass. She was quiet at first but Dom got her talking and found himself kind of wishing that he actually had squashed Tran…except that brought up those ugly "what ifs" again and the idea that he might actually have killed Brian in his desire to make Tran suffer brought him nightmares.

He asked Tanner to see Brian again but Tanner seemed to have reached the extent of his pretty long leash. But he brought him information, as did Mia, and once more he found himself with a lot of time on his hands and nothing to do but think.

Well, at least until they brought Vince in to share his cell. He couldn't complain though -- well, he did complain, loudly, but it was for Vince's benefit mostly. Vince was a little different too, his temper seemed dampened, like maybe near death had given him something to think about and with Vince, that was kind of a new experience.

He spent one long afternoon in a room with the team, talking to the DA, all of them subdued, and even Letty showed more respect than defiance. She looked a little scared, a lot freaked, but she didn't mouth off particularly, and she kept giving Dom odd looks when he'd answer calmly and with respect, and tell the truth -- all of it.

His hearing came and went with little fanfare and nothing much changed. Not until Brian actually woke up and this time, stayed awake.

Tanner weirded him out a little after that. Somehow, the gruff voiced, ever so proper and friendly detective, didn't seem the yenta type, but Dom didn't know what else to think. Pointed questions about lingering stiffness in his shoulder was enough to fill out a request, requisition a guard and transportation and then next thing he knew he was back at the hospital, only this time the elevator didn't take him to the CCU.

Tanner didn't actually explain anything and Dom did see an orthopedist who tested his shoulder, warned him about abuse and possible surgery if he re-injured it. Dom was barely listening. The only time it actually bothered him was when he did chin ups or push ups. Then again, he wasn't working on engines, and other than exercise, his most strenuous efforts were turning the pages of books or signing his name.

He kind of expected that Tanner would let him see Brian, but really, he wasn't prepared. He wasn't prepared for the rock that had apparently been hiding in his stomach to suddenly just up and evaporate. He wasn't prepared to see Brian sitting up, looking bored and still a little pale and so incredibly…bee-yoo-ti-ful.

He wasn't prepared to not feel awkward.

He didn't though, but Brian obviously did, the sudden emotion that flashed across his face revealing a lot more than he realized: Relief, shock, delight, shyness, and the last wasn't something Dom thought he'd ever seen on Brian's face before.

What wasn't on Brian's face were any bruises or cuts of note. He looked like he'd shaved and bathed recently, blond hair still a little flat from resting on the pillows.

And true to form, Brian had something to say. "Well, you look a hell of a lot better."

It hit Dom then that he'd maybe missed Brian's voice most of all. Like the tone and timbre of his voice was the best indicator of how Brian actually was, rather than what he said. He couldn't help but grin at the realization. If he'd known that was the deal he could have picked up a phone and called him.

"I could say the same," he said and moved closer. There was a chair but he ignored it for more than a step up, seeing an open space on the bed next to Brian's hip. He was still grinning when he sat down, Brian watching him, mouth open. No words though. "How you doing, O'Conner?"

That pretty much did it, because now Brian couldn't stop talking. Not that he said much, but he touched bases, all of them, touching each person in Dom's life like he need to acknowledge their presence, maybe point out their predominance in Dom's life until Dom decided that if they didn't cut to the chase, Brian was going to run out of gas. "Brian," Dom said. "I think we've covered everybody. Almost everybody, and I don't have a lot of time. You ready to have that discussion yet?"

For a moment he thought maybe Brian didn't remember what Dom had said to him in the van. He'd been out of it…and Mia had told him that Brian's memory seemed to be a little choppy. Not so much missing bits, but not always certain where the bits fit in. But Mia had brought him a message just a couple of days ago, that Brian had said they had stuff to discuss. Maybe it was just a coincidental choice of words.

It wasn't. Dom saw it before Brian spoke, watched his gaze slide away a little. "Dom, you thought I was dying."

Which was what? Another out for Dom? Because honestly, he didn't think Brian was looking for a way out of anything but disappointment. Come on, Brian. Trust me just a little, and then thought, maybe that was it. Trust…too little, too much, too often broken.

Dom really hadn't thought Brian was dying in the van. He hadn't realized until later how serious it was or how badly Brian had been hurt. That mouth of his again, telling Dom he was okay. He'd been afraid during the whole drive from Calexico to LA that Brian might already be dead. Dying was something that washed past you. Dead, that one stopped you cold. "I'm not going to die, and according to everyone I've been pumping for information, neither are you." Dom said evenly. "Not anytime soon, anyway." Unless Brian did something stupid again. Maybe he should warn him about that. "Although, you know, that jumping in front of bullets shit? You really need to cut that crap out."

He wanted to make him laugh, or smile. He got attitude which was nearly as good. "I wasn't planning on making a habit of it."

Whatever he was seeing in Dom's face was making him tense up, squirm a little. It made Dom want to laugh. But he didn't. He got closer though, trying to decide if he should let Brian keep talking or kiss him to shut him up. "Even so, Dom…this.."

There it was again, that look, and Dom nailed it. He'd seen it, or some variation on it, in a dark alley with when Vince holding a gun to Brian's head, and again when Brian was calling for the life-flight, but maybe most tellingly when he was running toward the wreck of Dom's Charger, when he didn't seem to know what to say or where to put his hands.

He moved his hand, not sure where to touch first and settled for Brian's cheek. "Brian…whatever you're afraid of, it's not in me, man. Not this time. You can...say...whatever you want." You can do whatever you want. Have whatever you want, anything I can give you.

Why he couldn't say it he didn't really know. But he knew Brian was studying him, testing what he had said. Dom couldn't make him not be afraid. Brian had to do it all on his own.

It looked like a pretty short struggle. "Actually, talking wasn't what I had in mind,"

No backing down. Dom did laugh then, but before he could even get started, Brian shut him up. Pretty damn effectively. This was better, this was definitely not anything less than all Brian had to give. Brian's mouth was hot on his, eager, no shyness there at all and Dom was barely able to recall that Brian could be this aggressive or demanding. His fingers slid into Brian's hair, almost wanting something to hold on to, afraid he might just give into the need to push Brian down on the bed and see how deep he could actually go. But it was Brian rising up to meet him, his breath hitching sharply for a second and Dom wrapped an arm around him. Brian's fingers splayed across the back of his skull angling Dom's mouth like there was some kind of taste or special spot that his tongue couldn't quite reach.

His hip was pressed to Brian's and he was suddenly glad the pants he wore were both loose and stretched, because God help him, his body was already telling him that he wanted to have a whole lot more of Brian than just his searing kisses.

Chest to chest and Dom could still feel the bandages under the thin gown, the bulky padding at Brian's shoulder. Brian's breath hitched again, but it didn't really seem like pain, more like gathering reserves for another go and Dom put some space between them, his own breathing ragged. His fingers found the bed control and he eased his hand out and up to rest on Brian's neck, bringing the bed up to support his back. Brian was flushed, eyes darker than Dom remembered, his breathing no more steady than Dom's. Lightly he pressed his hand to Brian's chest, feeling the thud of his heart, seeing the pulse in his throat. It pretty much echoed his own.

He knew what he wanted, how bad he wanted it, but there was no time, not with Tanner waiting in the hall counting off the minutes. Not with a long trial and probably a longer jail sentence waiting for him. Maybe this was a bad idea, not because of what it was, but because of what it couldn't be. Somehow he didn't think the California legal system had any ruling on conjugal visits that would cover this. He caught a glimpse of Brian's face and wondered if maybe that was why Brian had resisted, held back. He was going to be disappointed, maybe not by the feeling but by reality coming to bite them both on the ass. "I don't know…where to take this or how," he said finally, not really able to look at Brian, not sure he wanted to see what might flash once more in those blue eyes. "I'm not going to be able to walk away from this crash. Not immediately." It could take him years.

"Yeah, well, I'm not going anywhere," Brian said and he sounded so sure, like once committed, that was it. No way to go but through. His hand slid along Dom's jaw and Dom went with it. Who knew gentleness could absolutely make him feel weak?

"That doesn't seem quite fair."

Brian's fingers pressed on his lips and Dom had to look then. Brian's gaze was steady, no shadows, no fear. No second thoughts. "Life's not fair, Dom. You know that better than anybody. It just is, man. But there's a whole lot more than a quarter mile to it. It's the long stretches that take what you've got to give."

Christ, what a promise to make and it was a promise. Dom had no doubt of it. He wasn't sure he could hold Brian to it, because -- the last thing he wanted was for Brian to give up his life for him. Not in a physical sense like he'd so very nearly done, or in the figurative sense. He wanted very much though, to be part of his life.

No surprise he couldn't say but he tried to show it, cupping the back of Brian's head again and kissing him, holding him so that Brian wouldn't rush in again. Greedy, man, he thought with great affection, slowing Brian down, sucking on his lower lip before delving into his mouth lightly, exploring, coaxing Brian's tongue out and sucking on it slowly and firmly at the same slow pace he massaged the back of Brian's skull. Everything below his chest tightened when he heard Brian groan into his mouth and press against him and he had to hold him, feeling smooth, hot skin on Brian's sides under the thin gown, wanting desperately to feel skin, to taste him elsewhere, touch him. Kissing had never felt quite so much like fucking before.

The knock on the door probably saved them both from seeing if fucking could feel like that kind of kiss. Dom felt light headed, but Brian looked down right dazed, lips moist and reddened. Dom sipped lightly at them, memorizing taste and texture, then pulled back.

Tanner was nothing if not tactful. If he saw anything even slightly less than normal, he was hiding it well under an expression so neutral he might have been a statue. "Toretto, time to go." Maybe not so neutral. He actually sounded sorry.

"Yeah," Dom said and quickly laid his hand on Brian's chest, touched his own then kissed his knuckle. Prayer and blessing, promise, and Brian's eyes flickered, a small smile tugging on his lips as Dom stood up and tugged at his pants as he pushed the chair back. He sincerely hoped Vince was asleep when he got back because Dom had some business to finish. "So, I still owe you a little sunshine," he told Brian and angled himself so that Tanner could reach his hands. He didn't actually care if Brian saw him hard, but really, no use making Tanner uncomfortable. He'd like to visit Brian again.

Brian looked like a kid with a big secret. "I'm not buying you another car."

Dom grinned at him, laughter filling up his chest and make it easier to forget what he did want from Brian. What Brian might offer.

"But I think I still owe you a ride."

You fucker, Dom thought because Brian shifted in the bed, legs a little wide. The blankets hid a lot, but not everything. Oh, yeah, Brian was recovering nicely

"Yeah…I think you do. Something fast."

"No, man, something slow. Something that will last you a while."

Brian was so fucking with him, the jerk, and Dom let the laughter loose. He was in so much trouble… because Brian was not going to stop this shit anytime soon. He was going to keep reminding Dom there was a promise on the table.

Yeah, well two could play at that game. Brian O'Conner did not know who he was messing with. "See you, Bri."

He laughed all the way back to the car, Brian's chuckle following him like an invisible puppy. "So, Tanner…we got time enough to stop for food?" Dom asked him cheerfully. "I could go for a good tuna salad."

###  Epilogue:

  
_  
You know I'd sooner forget but I remember those nights  
When life was just a bet on a race between the lights  
You had your head on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair  
Now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care  
But believe in me baby and I'll take you away  
From out of this darkness and into the day  
From these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain  
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names  
'cos I've run every red light on memory lane  
I've seen desperation explode into flames  
And I don't wanna see it again ~ Telegraph Road - Mark Knopfler  
_

The final interview in front of the parole board was grueling. Mostly because it was for form's sake and so the questions were ones Dom had answered a dozen times before. He was not bitching though. All in all, he'd spent precious little of the six months in prison between depositions and testimony and what seemed like a dozen separate trials, his own and Tran's. And when he was inside, Chino was a lot less crowded, a lot less strict, and overall a walk in the park after Lompoc.

Plus there was shit to do, like work on cars. The shop was not bad, and if the vehicles were unexciting, at least they were familiar. Having Vince in there with him helped too. Leon did sixty days and probation, and community service, Letty got probation and community service and Dom had to wonder if it wasn't because she wore a dress to the trial that made her look like a Catholic schoolgirl. He only caught glimpses of her when he'd testified, and decided she needed to seriously consider acting as a career. She didn't cry or try to play poor little misled girl -- she was pretty clear and calm, took no shit off the prosecutor but didn't let that temper of hers get the better of her. None of them had come out of this unchanged.

Leon's sixty ended up being more about traffic tickets than anything, which when he heard it, just made Dom want to roll on the floor and laugh. Twenty-seven hundred dollars in parking tickets. It was hysterical.

Even so, Dom knew they all had some people to thank for what they did get, himself especially. He and Vince, they'd actually been nailed for the attack on the trucks. Assault, especially at high speed, made juries truly nervous. So much so that when the DA offered him a plea bargain, in recognition for both his "assistance" with the Tran case and the set sentence, Dom had signed with no hesitation. Three years, but he could be up for parole in six months and he knew someone had pulled some strings to get that set up. The same for Vince even though he'd had nothing to do with Tran.

There was other shit too, like reparation, a civil suit that got canned before it even got heard and again, Dom knew someone was yanking on the freight lines' chains, and that at some point, he was probably going to owe somebody -- probably the feds. The money they had left, it was nothing, meant nothing. It was gone.

The warning he got from the judge though, that if he so much as got a speeding ticket during his probation he'd serve out the rest of his sentence someplace where there were no roads, he took seriously. Dom had been a model prisoner.

Not that it had been easy, because even Chino had its share of assholes, but Dom played it cool and checked his own attitude where he could. Vince though, Vince got set off by stupid things. So much so that Dom and recognized his younger self there. It was a great reminder about what not to do.

He was, as they said, highly motivated.

So, he sat through another round of interviews by the parole board, listened again to the recommendations made by Detective Tanner, Officer Brian O'Conner and tried not to squirm.

Then he was done. Vince got out a week before him. Mia brought him street clothes two days before and when the gates unlocked and he walked out, his time at Chino faded from mind a whole lot quicker than Lompoc had.

Maybe it was the noisy crew of people waiting for him: Mia smiling as he hadn't seen her do in awhile, Letty looking smug and saucy and giving him shit about gaining weight, Leon and Vince bouncing up and down on the hood of the Pontiac like kids on a moon walk.

Or maybe it was Brian looking like somebody had just handed him the winning lottery number.

He'd seen a lot of Brian, more than he expected. Not at first, because despite his protests that he was fine, it had taken Brian a more than a month to fully recover. It had taken him even longer to get through an LAPD Internal Affairs investigation that, from what little he told Dom, had actually been a whole lot more grueling than Dom's trial had been.

He'd come with Mia on Sundays sometimes, but more often he'd show up on Saturdays, alone. Chino had the downside of few visiting hours, but a more lenient approach. They weren't necessarily confined to a room. They were always under watch, but there was a pretty decent garden maintained by inmates and walking was a great way to put other physical restraints from mind

Sometimes, Dom couldn't remember what they talked about. It was odd in a way he'd never experienced before because Brian wasn't Leon or Letty or Mia or Vince. Their history prior to Chino had a grand total of six weeks and that was stretching it a bit, since for the first three weeks Dom had known Brian, he hadn't even spoken to him. He was just a guy sniffing around Dom's sister.

And what was between them now, they couldn't talk about, or not easily, if only for the circumstances. A handshake, a brief hug, the brushing of arms while they walked. That was pretty much it. It was something that was waiting for them, like a Christmas present already spotted in a closet somewhere, but months before it could be opened.

So Dom did what he always did when he found early Christmas presents: tried to peel back the tape and paper a little and see what was inside.

He felt like Brian knew everything about him from his birth to now. It wasn't true, but it felt like that. And getting information out of Brian was harder than it might appear for someone who talked so much. It was like reading a police report: Father - cop. Wounded in the line of duty. Currently resides in Barstow. Mother - homemaker, estranged. Currently resides in Boston. Graduated from high school, no honors. Associate Degree in Criminal Justice, ITT Anaheim. Prior employment: Truck driver, mechanic, legal assistant, substitute teacher.

It took Dom awhile to realize that for Brian, it wasn't necessarily about hiding anything. It was about knowing the past only held on to him if he let it. His parents hadn't been Dom's parents, his understanding of people and family and all the things that shaped kids into adults, was skewed a little to the "be different than they were" rather than holding his parents up as some kind of model like Dom and Mia could do.

But other stuff he would talk about, like how incredibly boring riding a desk could be, which was what he was doing. Or how he'd learned to surf. Or that given a choice, he'd pretty much rather eat anything but Tex Mex. They talked about cars, because it was safe and Brian finally got the Mustang tuned up.

And they talked about what changes had hit that Dom would have to deal with when he got out, because it wasn't going to be the same. It wasn't going to be traumatic, but different. Dom was more grateful than ever that he'd never wanted to try and play head of the family and take back any of the titles on property or businesses from Mia. He might be broke, but the garage was still there, the house, the market.

She'd taken an apartment too, renting out the house as planned. There was a lot of stuff in storage, but she had two bedrooms, and one of them was for Dom if he wanted it. In a few years she might want to move back into the house, maybe if she met someone. Dom wasn't sure what he wanted, but he was willing to let Rosa and Santos stay on for a bit until he figured it out. The garage was open again, their customers seeming to hardly have noticed the closing.

The day of his release got closer and Dom knew the biggest change was going to have very little to do with his past and a lot to do with his future.

It had to wait though, at least a little bit, and Brian seemed to mind a whole lot less than Dom did, when they all loaded into the cars and headed back to LA. Dom rode with his team, feeling a little weirded out by the fact that Brian was driving alone and outdistanced them pretty quickly. The why of it became obvious when Mia totally bypassed the route to Echo Park or even to her apartment in Silverlake and turned toward La Brea instead. It made sense then, because Santos and Rosa had the house, with kids on a school night and Mia's apartment was small. Brian's house wasn't small too, but it had a yard and what was a reunion without a cook out?

It was familiar and not. They'd actually hauled the grill over and it was hot, ready to go. The beer was cold, the music loud and not long after they got there, it became apparent that invitations had been sent out. Not a ton of people, but people Dom knew, like the older Gutierrezes who seemed to pretty much have adopted Brian.

Brian kept his distance without seeming to, but whenever Dom sought him out, all he got was that smile, and a sense of patience that was making Dom a little crazy. After six months, a few more hours should have been easy, but Dom felt hyper aware of Brian, and kept wondering if everyone around him knew but just wasn't saying anything. It got reinforced when Letty was actually the first to check out, claiming that she was due out early in her community service gig in the morning. But then she kissed Dom and it wasn't exactly a sisterly buss. It felt more like a promise too. An hour later and it was still going, Papa Gutierrez had some seriously funny stories and the beer was still flowing. Dom caught sight of Brian, moving around the edges, picking up empties and trash and Dom gathered up his own and followed him inside.

The window had been replaced, and surprisingly enough, Brian's couch. There were actually pictures up, one or two that looked really familiar.

Brian caught him looking. "Mia informed me my house is…a little short on the style side," Brian said with a grin. The changes were minor, subtle, but yeah, it looked like Brian might stick around for awhile.

Dom dumped the bottles and backed up to the counter. "This is…nice. Not what I had in mind, but nice," he said and then sucked a breath in when Brian was suddenly a whole lot closer than he'd been in months.

"They missed you," Brian said simply. "This was easy to do. But you know, if you're tired, they'd understand if you fell asleep."

"I'm not…" Dom stopped. He could hear them outside: Mia's laughter, Vince's. Nina's…all of them. They could go on like this for hours and would if Dom was around to give them a reason. "I could use some rest."

Rest, right. Brian dared it, kissing him hard and swift, holding the sides of Dom's face and taking control. It was the first time they'd kissed standing up and Dom found himself a little caught off guard and a lot turned on by the fact that he had to lift his mouth up to make that perfect seal with Brian's. Dom barely got his higher brain functions back online before Brian was backing away, carrying fresh beer out to his guests. "You shit," Dom muttered and heard Brian laugh.

It still took some time, and even though he wasn't tired, lying down on Brian's bed felt incredibly good. For one, he wasn't surrounded by a hundred other guys, the bed was wide and firm and the sheets clean, and two, as much as he loved them, as glad as he was to be out, a few minutes of really not having to deal with anybody, of privacy, was a luxury he didn't even realize he'd missed.

And maybe he dozed a little because the next thing he knew the music was softer, and he could hear voices, pitched low. "It's not a problem, Mia. I'll bring him home tomorrow. I've got the room…he doesn't have to check in with his a parole officer until the twelfth."

"There's a mess outside…"

"I'm off tomorrow, the rest of the week."

"Brian…" Dom knew that tone. She was about to say something she would regret later, but whatever it was, she stopped it before it could get out. "Meet me for breakfast?"

"Sure. The Coffee Company?"

"Yeah…ninish," she said. "I don't have class until one."

"We'll be there," Brian said and then they were gone. Twenty minutes later, Dom heard what he thought was the last car pulling away, and watched the lighting change as Brian shut off the outside lights.

Dom waited, but Brian didn't immediately come back to the bedroom. He moved around a little and Dom heard the soft clink of glass, the rustle of paper, water ran for a moment then the kitchen light was out and the music silenced.

Brian was moving quietly. In the bedroom, it was more dark than light. The light in the bathroom was on but the door nearly closed, casting a narrow sliver across the floor.

Brian stopped in the doorway and Dom didn't move. Brian thought he was asleep, that had to be it, because he wasn't coming any closer. He toed his shoes off and left them inside the door and peeled his t-shirt off, dropping it as well, but he didn't come to the bed. He only moved to turn the bathroom light off, slipped inside and Dom could see the sliver of light under the door while Brian took care of whatever he needed to do.

The anticipation was killing him, but the urge to watch Brian, all unobserved, was pretty compelling. Plus Dom was comfortable. Brian came out again, closed the door almost entirely, and turned the light on again. The light skimmed across his back showing a set of broad shoulders that tapered down to a slim waist. Even with the play of shadow and light, Dom could see the darker line across his shoulder just to the right of the blade. Brian would have the surgical scar for life.

Then he couldn't see as Brian turned away, studying him again. For a minute Dom thought he knew he was being watched, that Dom was awake, but he only looked and then headed back out into the living room

"Brian."

Caught. He stopped and turned around. "I thought you were sleeping." His voice was soft, a little low.

"I was. I'm not now."

"Need anything?"

Dom half suspected he was being set up, but maybe not, because Brian was still there, not moving closer. He swung his feet off the bed and sat up. "Do we need to talk about it?" Dom asked him.

"How about we talk about it tomorrow?" Brian said

That was easy and Brian came to him. Dom stood up, ready and willing to take up where the kiss in the kitchen had left off. Not quite so teasing, and Dom had his fingers curled around Brian's belt even before his mouth tilted up to capture Brian's. Brian didn't exactly resist capture and managed to keep Dom from tripping on the bed when they both moved back a little.

Brian's hand slid around his jaw again as they stumbled and it occurred to Dom that he could actually touch now. He let his fingers slide along Brian's belt to the buckle, feeling cool metal under his finger tips, denim and leather, textures he was familiar with but felt new and strange. Brian's mouth had left his and was leaving a wet path along his jaw, up under his ear. Dom hissed out a breath when Brian sucked on his earlobe, left a shivery chill on his skin. Beneath the denim, Brian was firm and hard, Dom feeling the strain in his own groin, heat in his belly as he traced that thin line of hair below the cloth.

He wanted Brian naked. He wanted to be naked. He wasn't expecting perfection or even stunningly good sex -- although it probably would be because he'd been doing all the work with his own hand for months and anything would be an improvement.

But Brian wasn't a guy in the next bed jacking off, and he wasn't Letty who Dom had had years to learn what she liked and didn't like. He hadn't taken a new lover in so long, he was out of practice.

Brian might be out of practice too, but he seemed to know what he was doing, because his hands skimmed under Dom's shirt, lifting it. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was thinking naked was good too. Dom pulled it off and tugged Brian's belt open, then hunted down the rivet on his jeans and the zipper. Brian sucked in a breath and Dom found a gap against his belly, smooth skin under his fingertips and the tracery of hair that started below Brian's navel and disappeared under the denim and cotton. He pushed down and Brian's hands helped, shoving his jeans and underwear down in one easy motion and stepping out of them

Then Brian's fingers were tugging at his pants, tugging at his shirt, pulling them in opposite directions and Dom could help with the shirt, tugging it over his head. Breathing was suddenly difficult, because Brian had jerked his pants down, then his underwear and was suddenly kneeling before Dom had even really gotten a chance to see him, to tell him or show him what he wanted. Maybe it was what Brian wanted, because his hand slid around Dom's dick like it belonged there, and he had his nose and lips pressed to Dom's belly, nipping lightly, moving down. In a second his mouth was going to be…

Dom twisted a little and caught the back of Brian's head, his hair, pulling back lightly, getting his attention. "Let's turn a light on," he said.

Brian looked a little startled but he rose up, his fingers lingering on Dom's dick long enough for Dom to half regret stopping him.

It gave him time to finish kicking his clothes off and out of the way. Brian had only to twist a little to reach the lamp, both of them blinking when it came on, and Dom was really glad it wasn't like, 100 watts of brilliant, or they'd both be blind. It was enough though. Enough for Dom to see the scar high on Brian's shoulder, enough to see that solid as he was, those broad shoulders compensated for a build that ran more to slender than Dom's own stockiness.

Brian had turned and was looking too, moving back to spread his hands across Dom's chest, testing the muscle, the edges of his palms catching Dom's nipples in a way that made him grit his teeth and shiver.

Dom's hands spread across the sides of Brian's waist, tugging him closer until Brian's cock rubbed against his own, which sent a shudder through both of them. "I've been thinking about what you said for six months," Dom said and found to his delight that Brian had just enough height on him that Dom need only tilt his chin up to be able to press his teeth lightly along Brian's jaw. He liked what it did to his expression, which went kind of blank, and apparently made Brian a little breathless.

"Yeah…and what did I say?"

Dom grinned. "Something slow…to last awhile."

"Ohhhh….yeah." Brian ducked his head and tongued Dom's right nipple. Dom stumbled backward and Brian gave him a little push.

The bed was suddenly right there and Dom only had to sit, and then lean back. Elbows on the bed and Brian's mouth and body urged him further back. "That chick thing," Brian said when Dom was more on the bed than off, and Brian more on Dom than off.

Dom felt his eyebrows rise up. "Chick thing?"

"Yeah…the whole," Brian's mouth covered his, sweeping Dom's mouth with his tongue then backing off, "kissing and…rubbing," he murmured and let his hips drop, their dicks sliding against each other like they were dancing. Dom groaned and dropped back further onto the bed. Brian's face was only inches from his as he shifted and rocked. "That foreplay thing. Is that what you mean by slow?"

"Hell if I know. You said it," Dom accused and lifted his hips when Brian's hand slid between them grabbing them both firmly. "But that was the plan…" Brian was grinning at him, moving his hand slow and Dom was pretty sure his brain was going to short out. This was going to be over really fast. "You're messing with my plan, here, Bri--" Dom said.

"You have a plan?" Brian asked, his hand still moving, thumb rubbing over the head of Dom's dick.

"Yes, you shit, I have a plan," Dom said torn between laughing and just letting Brian get on with what was obviously his plan. Brian's hand didn't stop moving. He only grinned and lowered his face to Dom's again.

Fucker. Dom pushed his hands up, caught Brian's face and pulled him down. Brian absolutely had no objections to being kissed like that, or even having Dom leverage him over to his back. He had to let go, of course.

"Looks kind of like my plan," Brian gasped out when Dom let him up for air.

"Oh, yeah? Roll over," Dom said, grinning when Brian looked surprised and then suspicious, but not alarmed. He rolled to his belly.

"Stuff's in the drawer," he said.

Stuff? Oh, shit… Dom squeezed his eyes shut at the rush of blood to his dick. "We'll get to that," he said and Brian twisted, to look at him.

Dom pushed his shoulder down and leaned over him, burying his nose into the soft curls at the nape of Brian's neck, let his tongue bathe the skin under Brian's ear. It made Brian scrunch up his shoulders. They were nice shoulders and Dom laid his hand on them squeezing firmly and releasing, and rubbing downward, his thumb trailing over the scar, then lower along Brian's spine. Brian's head came up and he tucked his elbows against the bed, twisting again. "Dom," he was a little breathless and was a lot hard. Dom let him roll back, and lined up their dicks so they could get acquainted again.

"Okay, your plan," Dom conceded, he was outnumbered, anyway. Brian and their two cocks were done with the foreplay.

Brian grinned at him: wide, brilliant, laughter haunting the edge of his lips and he shoved Dom over and made a dive for the bedside table. He almost ended up on the floor but Dom caught him, which wasn't easy with nothing but bare skin, but the flare of Brian's hips gave him some leverage and then Brian was back, rolling them back, dropping a small bottle on the bed and tearing open the condom packet with his teeth.

Dom had the urge to help, but Brian seemed to have it under control, and seriously, his brain was not quite up with the plan just yet, although really, it was pretty simple plan. Amazingly simple. Brian reached down and held him, and slid the latex over Dom's dick with a certain amount of highly skilled precision. Little too much throttle though because Dom found himself thrusting into his palm when Brian over-handled just a tad.

He eased off and Dom didn't know if he should actually be glad about that, but then Brian dropped the little plastic bottle in his hand and rolled over again.

Make or break time and Dom fumbled getting the top off. The lube seemed too thin, but it was slick, glistening on his fingers, and Brian was stretched out beside him, arms folded under his head watching him with that smile on his face, one knee pulled up slightly but Dom could still see the tip of his dick, pressed to his belly. "You got the tools, man," Brian said and Dom started chuckling, leaning down, half lying down and Brian adjusted, pressing his mouth to Dom's.

Dom didn't need to see really. He could feel, finding his way across Brian's hip, where the skin was stretched tight over bone, down along his ass, where hard muscle gave resistance. When his fingers trailed along the shallow valley between Brian's cheeks, Brian surged against him, panting a little. Dom's dick felt like steel, afraid the slightest touch would have him spilling his goods all too soon. It would feel just as good, but he wanted all of it, what Brian had offered, and this was only part of it. Dom met more resistance but pushed and Brian opened to him, mouth and body.

Dom rolled back too, pulling Brian with him, fingers still working his ass until Brian snatched the bottle from him and slicked his own hand then covered Dom's cock, only to push up and straddle him. The bottle dropped to the floor.

I am so outmatched, Dom realized and it didn't matter because suddenly, he was there and he squeezed his eyes shut as his dick slid past the tight muscle, the slick easing the way, and what couldn't be eased, Brian demanded. A jolt shot through him, into his balls, into his belly, spreading out through nerves that honestly didn't get much attention. He couldn't not move, instinct and desire making all the decisions and when he finally opened his eyes again, Brian was right there with him, eyes wide open, but darker, hips and thighs doing all the work. Dom didn't need to think about it all. His own hips snapped up, thrusting deep and Brian gave a half moan, half grunt, but met him, breathing shallow and fast and dug his fingers into Dom's shoulder while fisting his cock with his other hand. Multi-tasking, Dom thought with a chuckle and his laughter had Brian grinning again.

No ten second ride. This was a long stretch, and Dom realized for all the command Brian had shown, Dom was the one doing the driving. He dug his heels into the bed, twisted and had the satisfaction of watching every coherent expression slide right off Brian's face. Not so bad for him either because there was a tension spring in his belly that was being wound tighter and tighter. He moved his hands, slid them along Brian's thighs, feeling the tight muscle there and worked his way up, covering Brian's hand with his own.

"Dom…" Warning, plea, Dom didn't know but Brian's head snapped back. Dom squeezed firmly, milking him and thrusting hard and deep. Brian might have said something but it made no sense and come spilled over Dom's hand, onto his belly. Muscles Dom thought were already like steel seemed to tighten on his dick and he dug his fingers into Brian's hip and completely lost control. He heard Brian whispering in his ear but couldn't make out the words. For a moment he was blind, deaf and dumb, nothing but the blinding spill of sensation and heat, all centered in his groin. It sucked the air out of his lungs, and all the strength from his limbs.

Coming back down was like being rocked.

Brian was half collapsed on top of him, breath warm and wet on Dom's shoulder. He moved his hands, cupping Brian's ass, smoothing over it, feeling between them where Dom's dick was still tucked warm and firm in Brian's ass and Brian shuddered a little, then lifted up.

He didn't go far, basically clearing enough space just to drop down beside Dom, one arm flung across his chest, a knee draped over Dom's legs.

When Dom could actually think again he found his fingers curling around Brian's thigh and turned his head. Brian was still smiling but his eyes were half closed. "Now that," Dom said, feeling a hoarseness in his throat that could only come from yelling, "was a ride."

"Ten seconds, man," Brian said sleepily.

"No way…that was more."

"Way. I counted."

"Bullshit."

Brian's eyes opened, glinting and bright. His hand came up, thumb brushing over Dom's lips until Dom bit it gently. "Ten seconds," Brian said again and the warmth and surety in his eyes made Dom rethink it. Brian wasn't talking about time at all.

Ten seconds. Freedom.

Dom smiled and pulled Brian to him, biting lightly on his lower lip. "You're right. Ten seconds."

It was going to be the longest ten seconds of Dom's life.

~fini~

9/26/2004

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by X: do not link, borrow, modify or display.
> 
> Notes: A heap of thanks goes out to Gwyn R, who got me interested, and who provided me with final draft edit that was sorely needed, to Khaleesian who got me inspired, and to blackmeow and mlyn for providing some intriguing and timely character and social insights. The cover art is by X. Please do not borrow, link, steal, modify, make it into icons, t-shirts or otherwise take advantage of her gift. She does beautiful work and we'd like her to continue to do so. Shout outs to those who encouraged me, made sure I had my shit straight and challenged me.
> 
> The cheese is all mine. All comments welcome. maygra@bellsouth.net
> 
> Have a cracker.
> 
> AUTHOR's NOTES:
> 
>  
> 
> Ratings: NC17,  
> Pairing: Dom/Brian  
> Alternate ending
> 
>  
> 
> My knowledge of cars, racing, southern California, the border between the US and Mexico, the California Penal Code, the Federal Felony Statutes, The California Institute for Men Correctional Facility in Chino and about a zillion other things is pretty scarce. Take it for what it is. Everything I know, I learned from the web (and a few wonderful and helpful fen who didn't hesitate to point out or offer information that I'd otherwise have been pulling out of my ass.)
> 
> Other than that, I could just say: It was a movie and soundtrack in my head and as such, the facts may be a bit thin on the ground. Willing suspension of disbelief is a staple for audiences of drama everywhere.
> 
> Note that films were pretty violent and rough, the stories as a whole reflect this; this is not always a pretty world and readers should be prepared for violence and not a little examination of the darker natures of people who live close to the edge and in between law and morality.Individual stories carry additional warnings.
> 
> That would be the disclaimer part, ya'll.
> 
> The acknowledgements are a little more solid: Many thanks and continuing gratitude to Gwyneth Rhys, who is really two for two with me in the fannish pimping arena. I'm a huge fan of her work, both in text and with visuals, and she's probably provided inspiration enough over the years to deserve an award of some kind for going above and beyond.
> 
> Also, to Khaleesian who I didn't know before this, and trust it's one of those intersections of fates that would bring me to her work, to her words, and be envious and inspired as a result. There's more than a little sidespin off her work her, which I hope she doesn't mind. She writes with a style and clarity I really wish I could emulate, but I'm not her, so we'll no doubt keep telling stories in our own way and hope that people continue to read.
> 
> And to blackmeow, who ducks the spotlight, but who, in ways she doesn't even realize, actually provided a lot of structure for this story because of her character insights. I've got some catnip for you, girl, and if you're at Escapade, I think the FatF crew should snag a table and share an hour or so.
> 
> And to the rest of the people, like Bone, and Mlyn, and Kadymae, and seriously, too many to name, who commented and questioned and encouraged; My very sincere thanks. I tend to write regardless of mood, but posting, I'm not too proud to admit, is kind of a leap of faith. You guys provided just the safety net I needed and I really appreciate it.
> 
> Whether I provided lyrics or not; there was a lot of musical inspiration here including Joan Baez, Mark Knoppfler, Los Lobos, Johnny Cash, Oxamatli, and the Dave Matthews Band. There were others but those are the final load in the CD player.
> 
> Oh, yeah. And if I can get my act together, for them's that wants them, there will be out takes from the movie in my head.
> 
> ~~I'm not planning a sequel, which isn't the same thing as saying there isn't going to be one.~~ But if you are inspired, go for it. Use it, abuse it, credit it, and consider all permissions given.


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